<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Fluff Smut and Other Stuff by Brynstein</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23613313">Fluff Smut and Other Stuff</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brynstein/pseuds/Brynstein'>Brynstein</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The X-Files</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Humor, One Shot, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 11, Pre-The X-Files: I Want To Believe (2008), Resolved Sexual Tension, Season/Series 06, Season/Series 07, Season/Series 08, Season/Series 11, Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension, what i'm calling: conversations on the couch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:26:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,301</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23613313</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brynstein/pseuds/Brynstein</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Some one shots of Mulder and Scully inspired by prompts that I found on Pinterest.</p><p>A mixed bag of stories– some smutty, some cuddly, some a bit sad, but mostly happy because this OTP have been through too much.</p><p>NEW CHAPTER 10: Mulder takes Scully for some seasonal ghost hunting</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fox Mulder &amp; Dana Scully, Fox Mulder/Dana Scully</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>119</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Comment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This one is angst turned fluff, because I can't seem to write one without the other. Set some time after s06e03 Triangle. Just Scully lying in her bed unable to sleep because Mulder told her he loves her.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Having completed one story and having a few near completion, I thought it would be a good Easter treat to start posting these. So, Happy Easter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time it had happened, Scully was sure that he had been drunk. Even though it was only ten in the morning and he had been in the office. She had heard the glazed look of a stoner from the other end of the phone line. It had been audible. </p><p>
  <em>"Scully..." </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Yes?" </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Marry me."</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The second time it had happened, she had been there to see it. She had made sure to scrutinise his expression. He had been gazing– yes, gazing– but with an innocent earnest that bothered her. </p><p>They had been in the office, just flicking through old files when he had put in the request. She forgot what had made Mulder say it, but it had something to do with her rolling her eyes at a ridiculous conclusion he had conjured– as she always did.</p><p>
  <em>"Scully..."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"What, Mulder?" </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Marry me."</em>
</p><p>A file had casually gone flying his way, which he unfortunately had ducked and laughed at. </p><p> </p><p>The third time it happened she was getting used to his increasingly risqué flirtatious quips. She had been explaining the nature of a deceased for the benefit of the officers at a small-town sheriff department. Once she had finished spewing jargon, and the other officers had wandered off, she felt a hand creep its way to the small of her back. His breath on the back of her neck had sent her hairs standing to attention and the whisper in her ear a tingling sensation down her spine. </p><p>
  <em>"Scully?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Marry you?" </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"It's like I'm already standing at the altar."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Mulder, change your tune."</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The fourth time it was different. They were in the basement again, but sat at either side of his desk, buried nose-deep in paperwork. He had broken the silence with the utterance of her name. </p><p>
  <em>"Scully?"</em>
</p><p>And though he had inflicted a question onto those two syllables, she didn't look up. She knew where this was going. </p><p>
  <em>"Yes?" </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Kiss me."</em>
</p><p>She laughed. Okay, she had not been expecting that. </p><p><em>"Maybe later,"</em> she had teased, thinking nothing of it at the time. </p><p>The long silence resumed, but something made Scully look at him that time. As soon as he caught her gaze, Mulder questioned her. </p><p>
  <em>"Is that a promise?" </em>
</p><p>He was looking straight at her, those piercing eyes shattering her ability to talk. There was a sharp edge of honesty that was unsettling and it should have been more troubling to her than it was. </p><p> </p><p>Her thoughts ran wild in the darkness engulfing her as she lay in bed. Her memories toyed with her, presenting a perfect sideshow of torture. He could say with words what she denied in her own heart. </p><p>Another memory came creeping:</p><p>
  <em>"Scully, I love you."</em>
</p><p>Fuck! She wanted to scream and roll around in the sheets, flailing, crying, expending all her energy so she would have none left to hate this inner-turmoil. </p><p>Instead, she turned her head to the window, the lights and sounds of Georgetown muffled by distance and darkness. What light did infiltrate its way into the room was refracted by the heavy rain tumbling down the glass panes. She didn't know when it had started raining. It felt like it had always been raining but she didn't think it had been when she had gone to bed. She shivered at the sight of the water falling. Or was it the thought that they would have to inevitably address the whole 'them' thing? Not that there was anything to address, of course. Either way, goosebumps prickled her arms and legs. She hugged her knees to her chin, cradling herself in contemplation at the edge of the bed. </p><p>The pain. The denial. The lo-. </p><p>The word was bitter on her tongue. In any case, she knew it wasn't that– could never be that. Even though her heart told her to smile at the things he said, especially the stupid ones; to play with his hair and hug him close when things were tough; to go on ghost-busting trips with him in the middle of the night instead of spending Christmas Eve with her family. But she knew she would make the same decisions again in a heartbeat. </p><p>The clock on the bedside table read quarter past three, it didn't matter though, she knew he never slept. She didn't know why her hand flew to the phone: it certainly wasn't out of lo-. She sighed and hesitated before dialling the only number she knew off by heart. </p><p>"Hi, Mulder it's me." As if it would be anybody else at that hour. </p><p>
  <em>"Scully, what time is it?" </em>
</p><p>"Quarter past three."</p><p>
  <em>"Couldn't sleep?" </em>
</p><p>A small smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. "It's not like you were."</p><p>
  <em>"What's up?" </em>
</p><p>"Nothing... I don't know," she sighed. </p><p>
  <em>"Call back when you think of something?"</em>
</p><p>"Okay."</p><p>He hung up abruptly leaving her a little shocked. She had barely put the receiver down when it chirped with life again.</p><p>"Yes?"</p><p>
  <em>"Actually, I have some very interesting sightings of something called Benu in New Mexico. They're sort of like the Egyptian version of a phoenix, being born from flames, setting themself on fire, and then rising from the ashes again. But these birds more closely resemble heron in looks and have this deafening screech. And in fact, all the people who have reported sightings have subsequently gone deaf. I was thinking we could... </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Scully, you there?"</em>
</p><p>The line was quiet for a while. </p><p>"Mulder?" she grinned. </p><p><em>"What?"</em> </p><p>"Marry me."</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This isn't the first one I started, but it's the first I finished. I was stuck for a while about what the comment should be, and once I figured that out, where the story was headed. Whilst I do like the resolution of the story, it still doesn't feel exactly on character, but I couldn't help myself.</p><p>It's not my favourite, but it could have been a lot worse, so I'm not complaining.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Drunk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>One of those late evenings Mulder and Scully spend together, enjoying each other's company and a few alcoholic beverages. This is an interpretation of what their first time would be like and they need a little help to realise what they have right in front of them. </p><p>It's more tipsy than drunk but we will go with it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I know that a lot of people go with All Things being their first time, but in Trust No-one, it is implied that the first time is at Scully's from the quote: "...on one lonely night you invited Mulder to your bed." So, this is set a little bit before All Things but still late season 7. You could argue that All Things was still the first time, but Scully made the choice to properly accept the situation, cementing it by "invit(ing) Mulder to (her) bed", and that is what is meant by that quote but eh.</p><p>Yes, Scully is a little bit kinky, and yes, she is a little bit of a masochist. But then again, handcuffs are canon and did you see her face when she got that tattoo?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's time to go. Mulder knows that but he is anchored to Scully's sofa, watching her hair fall around her face every time she laughs; perhaps one too many bottles of Bud Light swimming around his bloodstream. God awful stuff.</p><p>"I should gooo." He chuckles at the funny sounds of his slurred words.</p><p>Scully pouts. "Don't go. I like having youu–" she giggles and pokes his chest– "here. The conversation's good." She tips her bottle to Mulder's, clinking cheers as a punctuation of approval. "Plus, you're faarr toooo drunk... to drive home now."</p><p>"It's what ya do to me, Sculls."</p><p>She laughs almost spluttering her latest swig of beer. She looks up when Mulder brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. His face is so close to hers. Not just his face his whole body; its heat radiating off of him, melting her heart. When did get this close? How did she not notice?</p><p>Scully is reminded of a time very similar to this not too long ago that it's still hanging in the air around them. She can tell he feels it too. She lifts her eyes to meet Mulder's gaze that's pinning her down. She wants to reassure him but she isn't sure how.</p><p>Instead, she is captivated. It's almost as if his bottom lip is looking directly at her, so full, so fleshy, so inviting. She's trembling just from the idea of pulling it between her teeth. The forbidden thought of him deep inside her has her biting her lip to keep her from whimpering. It's a thought she has long tried to hide from herself, yet it breaks the surface of the murky waters of her mind, gasping for an extra breath. She lets it sail there, indulging in her hastened heartrate and the exhilaration that chills her skin.</p><p>Tentatively, her fingertips find his cheek and she leans in.</p><p>Her lips graze his. The feeling is intense, yet the kiss remains soft and shallow; each brush languid yet desperate. In the pit of her stomach, she feels something catch alight and suddenly she is craving more. They should stop. This is wrong, isn't it? They are both too inebriated to argue with their better senses.</p><p>She is vaguely aware of the frictional scuff of fabric as Mulder moves to lean into her. Blindly, his hands trail to the indents of her waist, where they rest, gripping her sides with intent. He traces the arch of her upper lip, something distinctly feminine and Scully about it. He breaks away when she doesn't open an invitation, fearing that it was all too good to be true.</p><p>Mulder looks at her, holding her chin and brushing her hair behind her ear. Her eyes are somehow bluer than before. She is breathing hard, and he doesn't need her words to know it's what she needs. What they both need. </p><p>He moves in to take her. He tastes the warmth of alcohol on her lips, venturing further, consuming every sweet sensation of her. He kisses her tantalisingly slow and deep, savouring each flavour he discovers. Their tongues duel in the rising heat, vying to crest each other's moans. They possessively mark their every encounter, leaving them swollen and not in the least bit satiated. He caresses up behind her teeth, leaving his bottom lip vulnerable and exposed to her will. Scully takes it, claiming it, dragging it between her teeth. It feels divine.</p><p>Scully is crumbling under the effort to not scream his name. She isn't about to let on how much she is enjoying this– enjoying him. She doesn't want him to know the power he holds over her at this moment. But it's there, building in her chest, catching in her throat. She is forced to do something.</p><p>"Do you know how long I've been waiting for this?"</p><p>Her lips lazily drag away from his, mapping out his jawline to his neck. Fuck, how is he so weak for her? He can't think clearly enough with her touch warming his intoxicated blood to answer. Instead, he hopes that she'll take his groaning for encouragement.</p><p>His grip on her waist tightens, pulling her closer and she kisses a little harder. She reiterates her question, pulling away from him to look him in the eye, "Do you know how long I've been waiting to do this... to <em>you </em>?"</p><p>Jesus Christ. Mulder thinks he might faint. He hopes the answer is seven years because he can feel seven years of pent up sexual frustration hardening in his pants.</p><p>Scully's hands move from cupping his face to resting on his chest, feeling the quickening tempo of his heart through a shirt she desperately wants to take off. She smirks down at his lap whilst he swallows a lump in his throat. And then she grabs his wrists firmly, leading him to her bedroom. "You're coming with me," she giggles.</p><p>Mulder opens the door, allowing Scully to enter first; hand automatically drifting to the small of her back. His mind fizzles with the prospect of what lies beneath. A horizon of curves speckled with freckles? A smooth expanse riled with goose bumps and confessions? A pale, white complexion embarrassed into shades of pink and red arousal? His fingers itch to get under the hem of her blouse.</p><p>His touch sends flares straight to her core, matching the tingling he has left on her lips. Her tongue chases the feeling, reminiscing the taste and the saccharine passion that lit her fire. The flames now bloom with every breath she takes in anticipation. Her lungs fill and push her chest out with every rise and fall, pushing her nipples hard into her bra. She wants to rip off the barricades to her skin there and then, but she settles for occupying her fingers with tresses of her hair.</p><p>The sight of her fingers curling coyly through red ribbons steals his breath. It hitches as he watches her tango towards him. He wants to pick her up and thrust her against the wall, feeling the harsh, unyielding edges against her supple body, and he wants to wrap her in his arms and protect her from the pain. He wants to move but he stands in the middle of the floor mesmerised.</p><p>She gently pushes him into the bed, straddling him, pulling at his t-shirt, leaving a trail of bruising further down his body. His hands thread through those ribbons, pulling her back up to look her in the eyes. Even in the dim light, they glisten, wild with alcoholic bravado and thoughts he daren't read. He pulls her blouse up over her head and throws it to the floor. He marvels at how she manages to conceal her beauty with such simple clothing; her nude bra still covering more of her perfect porcelain skin than he wants. It's nothing fancy: no lace plunge, but it's making him hard as hell.</p><p>Mulder flips the dynamic, holding her underneath him now, tracing her pulse down her throat and smiling through kisses when she swallows with anticipation. Her collar bone is sharp and defined under the caress of his tongue. The taste of her skin under his lips is exquisite. She is hot and writhing, already arching into him and begging for more. He succumbs to overwhelming desire, pressing his crotch against her. She takes in an unbridled gasp, eyes widening in shock and pleasure. He looks straight into them, grinning this time in the knowledge that he can undress her sensibility with such a simple act.</p><p>Scully's not sure when he makes the move, but she hears the soft rumple of her bra colliding with the floor and feels the peaks of her nipples meeting the air. Mulder has to stop to take in the view: two perfectly round breasts topped with pert, rosy nipples staring up at him. He places palms to the soft undersides, dazzled at how they fit so perfectly in the cup of his hands. His thumbs stroke over her nipples, watching them grow impossibly perter. He can feel the intense weight of them every time her ragged breathing presses them further into his hold. He can sense her impatience and it prompts him to balance graces of his tongue between the two summits of her chest.</p><p>Scully arches her back, replying to his mouth commanding her body. He takes a breast in his mouth, rolling a nipple like a pebble in an unrelenting tide. He holds the pebble between his teeth, sucking and tickling it with flicks of his tongue. The other hardens in his fingers. He knows the way he circles and drags his fingernails is maddening from the tingle of electricity he could have sworn was radiating from the peak.</p><p>Her moans and whimpers ring through his ears, growing louder when he moves to suck and nip in circles around her areola, leaving her wet nipple exposed to the cold. He follows the path of her cleavage down to her navel. His fingers walk her lines of arousal, dancing over her nipples down to where her clit is hiding behind her trousers. He presses through the gusset before unzipping them.</p><p>She shouldn't let this happen, but it is too great to resist.</p><p>"I shouldn't let you get away with th-this." Her voice is shaky as she forces her mind to concentrate the words and not where his fingers are headed.</p><p>A deft hand glides down the front of her pants, testing the waters. "Are ya gonna stop me?"</p><p>Her breath hitches when his finger explores how wet and hot she is. "Fuck, no," she giggles.</p><p>He easily slips her pants and trousers down her legs like it's routine; like he has done it a thousand times before. He licks her inner thighs, teasing her skin with light, circular caresses of his fingertips. Scully whimpers and scrunches the bedsheets either side of her hips into fists of cotton. He responds in a guttural growl against her thigh.</p><p>She is soft and warm and soaking around him. Perfectly mellow. He touches the most sensitive part of her cruelly with just the tip of his tongue, eliciting a whimper from her trembling lips. Her fingernails weave their way through tufts of his hair to grip his scalp with ardent fervour.</p><p>Message received and understood.</p><p>He draws on the pool of her arousal, spreading it upwards to circle her clit. He smiles as he can hear her heartbeat pulse through every vessel in her body; the evidence of it throbbing around his mouth. Her moaning drives him to dip in with a finger swirling. She moans even louder, bucking her hips so that he can capture a deeper taste. She is close now; he can feel it in the tugs of his hair. And he so badly wants to make her come.</p><p>Scully tugs at his hair to stop him, but only does more damage as she feels a second finger slip inside, joining and separating with the first, drawing out her arousal. She can't let him win this argument so easily but he curls his fingers upwards. A cry escapes her lips, betraying her need for a resolution. She feels her heat burning between her legs and her clit flaring desperately under his touch. His mouth closes around this second precious pebble, sucking ceaselessly, spreading her wet fire with his tongue. Her walls throb around his fingers, begging for a larger feast. This is too much. She needs back her control. She needs him inside her– now.</p><p>She tugs again, calling his name with the least amount of arousal she can muster. "Mul-lder."</p><p>Disgruntled, he looks up at her over her stomach flared red and splotchy. A finger catches him under the chin, drawing him up to meet her mouth. She kisses his dripping lips, clasping his wet fingers in her hand. He lets her taste heaven saturated on his tongue. Her eyes roll and flutter. And then, all of a sudden, she is on top of him.</p><p>She wants to feel him swell in her mouth. She wants to feel him tip over the edge as her tongue venerates the virility of his long, hard length. She wants to lick the taste of him off of her lips like she has dreamt of doing so many times. But the deep ache he left between her thighs is ruling her head.</p><p>She regains control, fighting the alcohol in her system.</p><p>"Take off your belt."</p><p>He eagerly complies, removing it gracefully like unsheathing a sword. He sits upon his elbow, lifting his hips to pull it through the loops. He takes the opportunity to grind into her again to just to see her shiver so expressively lewd. Of all the faces Scully's pulled at him, this one is by far Mulder's favourite.</p><p>The belt dangles by his fist between them brandished as a symbol of their unity. He leans into a kiss but there is a slender finger on his lips. His tongue darts out, luring it into his mouth. His teeth graze the pad of the tip. She curls it, plucking his lip as she withdraws.</p><p>Scully takes the belt from him, pulling him fully upright so that their bodies are flush against each other. He wants to look between them to see her nipples scratch his chest hair, but he is caught in the pools of her dark eyes, drowning in them all over again.</p><p>With deliberation, she wraps the belt around his wrists, never breaking his gaze in the low light.</p><p>"Is this tight enough, Mulder?" she whispers in his ear, teasing him with a nibble on his lobe.</p><p>The sound of his name parting her lips makes him throb. The whole situation is making him painfully hard. His memory is doing backflips through every time she has tackled someone twice her size or brought out the handcuffs. God, he almost doesn't want to let her near handcuffs for fear of what she could do to him.</p><p>"Mhmm. What's this for?"</p><p>"In case you get any ideas again." She pushes his shoulders down onto the bed, placing his hands above his head.</p><p>"No fun," he lies.</p><p>She rolls her hips over his excruciatingly tight trousers, squeezing her thighs and grinning, almost unable to contain her fits of giggles. Then she starts silently convulsing, bating laughter with a peck on his nose.</p><p>"Sculls, don't make me beg." His voice is heavy and breathy from want. The urgency slaps her in the face, sobering her almost completely. Almost.</p><p>She is quick to unbutton his jeans and peel away his trousers. The tenting in his boxers is impressive and she surrenders briefly to her desires, kissing the fabric and licking its stickiness. She gently unwraps him from his pants and the thought of paper and presents flitter through her mind.</p><p>"It's like all my Christmases come true at once," she laughs to herself as she plants his feet on the bed.</p><p>He watches her put two fingers in her mouth and then reach down between her legs. She grasps his cock firmly with her other hand, painting it with her arousal. Scully allows him the indulgence of few sweeping circles around the head, watching him trickle with precum.</p><p>"Ffuck." Mulder has to look at the ceiling from behind his eyelids, holding his breath in an effort not to thrust his hips into Scully's delicate hands.</p><p>She leaves a single finger curled around him, carefully guiding herself over and down. Hungrily, she adjusts to him, pulling him deeper, deeper than he thought was possible. She rests, panting, a hand laid on his chest for support. She takes a moment to feel everything: she had always imagined, but never thought that he could fill her so completely. She's scared that he'll split her in two but aroused that she could lie broken by his hand and want it so fiercely.</p><p>Her hips work magic in circles. Starting slowly, she lets Mulder's moans flood her senses. Soon she works up a frenzy, her panting matching his every moan. She kneads her breasts and pulls on her nipples. He wants to reach between them and find her clit but he knows it's futile and, for the first time, damns his restraints. He's so close to coming, but he needs to see her come first.</p><p>Hands still bound, he reaches up to hold her chin in both thumbs, desperate to draw her down for a kiss. She gives in to him, arching to meet him. She tastes the air before his tongue, searching for his plump lip in the darkness. He shuffles backwards, teasing her with him until he is sat against the headboard. She pulls away from him, placing his hands back where they belong: above his head. Gently, she interlaces her fingers with his, binding them tightly. She moans into his mouth, rocking to ecstasy.</p><p>Scully breaks, gasping for air, euphoria pulling her head back. His lips work their way down her throat. Nuzzling his nose under her jaw, he inhales her sweet scent.</p><p>"God, how do you smell so good?"</p><p>"Pheromones," she breathlessly whispers.</p><p>He holds a ligament between his teeth and growls. "Your dirty talk always turns me on."</p><p>"Mulder, shut up and fuck me."</p><p>He starts thrusting unapologetically for his size. She gasps and squeezes his hands, branding a trail of half-moons across his knuckles. She meets his movements in perfect synchronisation.</p><p>He nips her neck as slowly and deliberately as she tied him up. She shivers again, encouraging him to find new skin to sully with a harder bite. She whimpers and he can't believe she actually enjoys the pain.</p><p>They both fall, tumbling into perfect bliss. Blood gallops through their veins and they stiffen around each other. Her eyebrows arch in a way that is forever going to taint her skepticism. Handcuffs, now this? Mulder thinks he might as well retire because there is no way on Hell's Earth he is going to be able to work in such torturously tempting conditions.</p><p>He bites his lip but blurts, "God, Scully."</p><p>Her favourite lip bursting between his teeth is enough to bring her crashing down, a flutter of warmth sailing through her body.</p><p>"Mulder... Mulder... Mulder!"</p><p>Fuck it if it's the only word she can think of, she has to scream it and she reasons he already knows what he's doing to her.</p><p>Their moans and names are deafening in the four walls surrounding them.</p><p>She collapses onto his chest. Their heavy breathing sounds silent with the ringing of orgasms and cries left in their ears.</p><p>"That felt good."</p><p>Mulder laughs at the utter understatement before replying in a language he knows Scully will understand: "Dopamine."</p><p>Dopamine. She rolls the word over her tongue but it doesn't settle. It doesn't sit right. She ransacks her vocabulary for a more apt description.</p><p>"Oxytocin," she muses.</p><p>Mulder stares at her in reverence, shocked by the power of a single word. He strokes her hair, leaving a kiss on the crown of her head.</p><p>"I don't think you've ever told me that before, Scully."</p><p>"Mhmm."</p><p>Her eyelids are weary and drooping. It is clear that she doesn't have the energy to say much more, so Mulder lets her rest while he locates her bathroom. He goes to get up and realises that his hands are still bound.</p><p>"Hey, honey, could you help me out of these, please?"</p><p>In her tiredness, she misses the affectionate name. She fumbles with the buckle, chucking the belt in the vague direction of the chair before flopping back on the bed. She crawls underneath her covers, lies back and folds into a serene slumber.</p><p>He runs his hands under the tap, the cold water refreshing when he splashes it on his face. The reflection in the medicine cabinet is smiling at him and smiling just feels like the thing to do. He cleans himself up, throwing one of Scully's towels to the washing basket and rearranging the trail of disorder he left in his jubilant wake.</p><p>When he returns Scully is already asleep, a soft lull to the rise and fall of her chest. Mulder crawls into her bed next to her, already missing her warmth. He cradles her closely, trying to plug her into the hole she has bored into his heart. It aches profusely with yearning and need, and he realises he is completely and utterly dependant on her. She was right: oxytocin. He finds comfort in love and addiction as he drifts off to sleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>When I started writing this, it seemed perfectly reasonable that neither of them would make the first move unless there was an outside factor pushing them together (like the ball drop for their first kiss or alcohol for their first time) but, on reflection, this doesn't pan out for Scully's acceptance of events and a move forward in their relationship, as I feel that she would just blame the alcohol instead. Oh well.</p><p>I still took this opportunity for Scully to tell Mulder that she loves him in her own Scully way, which, to be honest, might be my favourite bit of the whole thing.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. An Old Photograph</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Scully is back at the unremarkable house after the events in Plus One when she spies an old photograph of her and Mulder visiting the Liberty Bell (at the end of Shadow). Just a nice fluffy chit chat and some coffee.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I just couldn't help myself, so high five to anyone who spots the Monty Python reference.</p><p>Also, I should probably mention that the idea of the picture being of Mulder and Scully with the bell was inspired by a great, little fic about them going to see the bell after the events in Shadow. Please don't ask me to reference it, because I can't for the life of me remember what it was called or who penned it. But to whoever it was: Good job and keep up the good work.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Oh my God. I had completely forgotten about this."</p><p>Scully stood in the middle of the kitchen, a bottle of milk in one hand and the corner of an old photograph between the thumb and finger of the other.</p><p>"Mhmm, what's that?"</p><p>She ignored his question, still fazed by the piece of history stuck to the fridge. "God, we looked so young."</p><p>Reminding herself that she went to the fridge to put the milk away, she shook her head and freed herself from the trance the picture had put on her. She put the milk back, but her hand lingered on the door. Carefully, she pulled the photo from the magnet it was stuck behind, running her finger along the edge of the crumbling paper.</p><p>"Twenty-five years," she muttered to herself, wondering where all the time had gone. "Too long", she chuckled. But then again, it felt like they'd only just got going. Didn't she use to just teach at Quantico once upon a time?</p><p>Collecting her thoughts and the drinks she was making, she perambulated over to the sofa, where Mulder had made a career out of lounging with his feet upon the coffee table. She kicked his legs playfully, getting him to let her past. He tutted as she plonked down next to him but relented with a smile when she gave him his coffee.</p><p>She sank back into the cushions with her fingers wrapped tightly around her mug, indulging in the warmth slowly seeping into her body. She took in a deep breath of coffee spiced air, the musty smell of the old, unremarkable house infiltrating its way into the aroma. It was one of her favourite memories: the smell of home. Where once it had burnt her cheeks with saline tears, it now was the cause for a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.</p><p>Scully sipped her drink and pondered the old photograph, a smile still playing on her lips.</p><p>"Do you remember this?" she asked, eyes still glued it.</p><p>"Depends what a 'this' is."</p><p>She handed him the picture, taking another sip. "The Liberty Bell."</p><p>"Oh, <em>that </em>?"</p><p>His brow furrowed as he studied the picture. He trailed a fingertip across it as he had done many times over the last couple of years, tracing that old familiar path from one face to another. Him and Scully, side by side from the start. He lingered over the tiny depiction of her, smiling, eyes looking discreetly in his direction instead of the camera.</p><p>"Look, you were handsome." Scully pointed to his fluffy hair.</p><p>"And you still had your baby face," he countered in jest.</p><p>She raised her eyebrows at him but she couldn't deny it.</p><p>Mulder held the photograph next to her face for comparison. His eyes flitted from one to the other, playing spot the difference. He bit his lip and pretended that his search was fruitless, adamant that not a day had passed.</p><p>"The resemblance is uncanny," he concluded.</p><p>"Or is it this dim evening light?"</p><p>He laughed, shrugged and frisbeed the photo in the vague direction of the table. It spun gracefully through the air, completely overshooting the target. Mulder watched with nonchalance, not answering the question as he much liked his head where it currently resided: on his shoulders.</p><p>She looked up at him with earnest.</p><p>"Do you think we've grown up since then?" Her words were tinged with vulnerability. As if age had made her wiser, it had also made her more susceptible to the truth.</p><p>"God, I hope not." He took a mouthful of coffee in contemplation. "Growing up is overrated."</p><p>She tutted.</p><p>"You don't agree with me? It wouldn't be the first time."</p><p>"No, you said 'God'." She feigned disapproval and shook her head. "Should never take the Lord's name in vain."</p><p>He was the one raising his eyebrows this time, confused by what laws allowed her to say the same thing in the kitchen five minutes ago– <em>twice</em> no less.</p><p>"In that case, you have an infinitesimal  number of Hail Mary's you still need to catch up on from last night."</p><p>She knocked his legs mockingly. "Shut up, Mulder, it's–" She trailed her fingers up to where the remnants of bruising mottled the side of her neck– "it's been a while."</p><p>"I'll say." he chortled.</p><p>He waited for a few beats, feeling his silence burn his courage as he tried to find the right words to say. "I think we have changed for the better– you definitely have..."</p><p>Scully punched his arm fervently and nearly shrieked. "What's that supposed to mean?"</p><p>"Oi, watch the coffee!" He pouted and rubbed his harm, mumbling: "you still throw a mean right hook."</p><p>There was a look on her face that told him that he wasn't getting out of answering this one and she had the fists to back it up.</p><p>He huffed, giving in. "You're like a fine wine," he wistfully mused.</p><p>She rolled her eyes. "If you dare say I 'taste better with age', I will scoot your ass off of this couch."</p><p>Mulder shook his head desparingly. "I wouldn't know: you never let me anywhere near you for seven years." He dramatically sighed at the ceiling. "Seven years, Scully! Do you have any idea what you did to me?"</p><p>"The effects, I think, are only just becoming clear." She smirked at him.</p><p>His head rolled to the side, holding her gaze. The quiet hanging between them thickened into a comfortable blanket, cosy and reassuring. It had been a long time since she had looked at him like that: to just look at him and appreciate his company, holding the moment to make it last. It was something Scully hoped she could get used to– and yet never wanted to. Every time he looked at her like that, it was the first time. Everything around them faded from her vision. He made her forget about everything else: about the old photograph flung over the table; about the coffee growing cold in her hands; about the conversation they were having. Just Mulder, his hazel eyes and that infectious smile. It was her place to call home.</p><p>He broke the spell, his hushed voice sounding raucous against the silence. "We must have had something going on for that woman to mistake us for a couple."</p><p>She blinked a few times, still hazy and trying to catch up with the what he was on about. She reminisced about their day out in Philadelphia. After that poltergeist case, it was good to just leave all the bizarre behind and do something normal for once. As she was to find out, 'normal' would be an increasing rarity with Mulder.</p><p>She remembered it was particularly sunny that day. A warmth offset by a light breeze, which made strands of her hair attack her face. Clusters of couples walked about on patches of grass and along paths, tourists snapped pictures and aimlessly meandered in large groups, and children ran around, hollered by despairing parents: the height of normality. They had sat distant from it all, debating about beliefs from the afterlife to American history, from classical music to comedy and everywhere in between. Of course Mulder had insisted she take his picture with the Bell.</p><p>And then she remembered the woman interrupting them just as she was about to press click. What had she said? It would be a shame if only half of the couple were in front of the camera?</p><p>"Nice of her to offer to take the photo of us though," she eventually answered, repressing the recollection of her attempted protests.</p><p>"Mhmm. But how many times did it happen after that?"</p><p>"People mistaking us for a couple?"</p><p>"No, women taking our photograph," he drolly replied.</p><p>"Too many," she scoffed and shook her head in remembrance of all the awkward moments, reminding varying members of society that they were in fact, partners in the official capacity. She had never quite understood how every other person, who was barely introduced to them, had seen what they failed to see for years of each other's constant company. </p><p>Scully rapped her fingernails on the side of her mug, her tongue dancing across her lip, whilst she thought back to all that time ago.</p><p>"You know, I remember that case when we were at the garage and you had your jacket slung over your shoulder, giving me a look of..."</p><p>"Go on." He raised his voice, intrigued.</p><p>She looked at her feet perched on the coffee table wiggled them side to side. She didn't even know why she had mentioned it now. If she didn't tell him, Mulder would bring out his puppy-dog-eyes of persuasion and then there would be no going back. She hastily took a mouthful of coffee, embarrassed that she was even admitting to such a weakness in her propriety.</p><p>A little abashed she whispered: "well, I wasn't complaining."</p><p>"Not that you were before, obviously."</p><p>"No, obviously," she frowned. "I absolutely adored the idea of standing in the mud and the rain, ranting about unexplained phenomena."</p><p>"Well, I absolutely adored you standing in the mud and the rain, ranting about unexplained phenomena." He knocked his foot lovingly against hers in a sort of makeshift cheers, making her grin.</p><p>"I hate to admit it, but you were pretty adorable too– if a little irritating," she added with a mumble and a sideways glance.</p><p>"I had youth and looks on my side."</p><p>She mooned at him, contemplating how his face had changed in all the time she had known him. There were lines around his eyes and they drooped slightly from all that they had seen. The memories of William, Samantha, his mother and father were caught in the contours of his face. But his hair was still vivaciously fluffy, for which she was grateful, and there was a raw intensity still burning in those fiery eyes. And his lips– those lips were still full and ripe for the picking.</p><p>"You still have your looks," she quietly complimented, almost breathless.</p><p>He tilted his head, an automatic response. "Are you coming on to me?"</p><p>"I think it's a bit late for that," she simpered.</p><p>He leaned in so that the tip of his nose brushed the shell of her ear. "Three knocks, Dana," he teasingly whispered.</p><p>She swatted him away with her free hand. "Don't you 'Dana' me."</p><p>"Sorry–" he held his breath with a cheeky grin– "... Dana."</p><p>She shot him a withering look. "If I hear that name one more time, I will have to do unspeakable things to you–" his eyes widened with her words– "and not the things you like either."</p><p>"It's a threat you've used many times, Dana, and unfortunately with your rapport, it just doesn't stick." He tried to admonish her in his professional tone but his failed attempt at authoritative decorum only made her giggle.</p><p>"Are you saying my record is blemished?"</p><p>His eyes dawdled on the evidence of their previous evening's escapades peeping through a veil of red hair. Another uncontrollable grin grew across his face. "Only as blemished as the skin on your ne–"</p><p>There was suddenly a slender finger upon his pursed lips and a stern look in her eye. Mulder decided to change the subject quickly.</p><p>"So, any suggestions for dinner whilst I have you here?"</p><p>She put down her empty coffee cup slowly and deliberately. "Oh, I don't know, I don't think there's any need to eat just yet." She toyed with his fingers coyly, regarding him through her eyelashes.</p><p>The corner of his mouth puckered up into a smile. "How very devilish of you Miss Scully."</p><p>"I thought it was 'Dana' now," she hummed softly in his ear. "But since you offered, I was thinking maybe Thai?"</p><p>She got up and walked into the kitchen, making sure to peer over her shoulder to see the look on his face: disgruntled.</p><p>"You're such a tease, you know that?"</p><p>"And you're such a terrible cook."</p><p>She rifled through his bare cupboards, finding only the odd seasoning packet, some pasta, and too many bags of sunflower seeds to count. He grabbed a bag from over her shoulder. "I make up for it with my witty conversation," he murmured before ripping the bag open and chucking a handful of seeds into his mouth.</p><p>"If you are going to be of any help, would you at least fetch that photograph off of the floor before you forget about it and it ends up under a pile of god-knows-what you have scattered around."</p><p>He stood to attention, saluting her. "Yes ma'am," he jokingly barked and marched out of the kitchen, plucking it from the wasteland of the living room. He then, humming The Liberty Bell March for her amusement, did his best to make an entry for the Institute of Funny Walks and pinned the picture to the fridge.</p><p>She leaned forward with a hand on the counter to steady herself; the other covered her eyes as she shook her head and hid her laughter.</p><p>"Twenty-five years," she muttered to herself before straightening and finding the takeaway menus in the draw. "Twenty-five years too many."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The idea of these two just sitting on the couch with some witty banter and endearingly annoying each other is one of my favourites.</p><p>There was a whole ass chunk about why Mulder put the photo up on the fridge (when Scully left him, so he would have a reminder of when things were happy before they got in too deep and lost everything: that's the Mulder and Scully he wanted to get back to) but it didn't fit the mood of this piece, but I thought it was worth mentioning it here. Anyhoo, it is just gone four in the morning and I promised myself this would be up yesterday.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. One Extra</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The first of LITERALLY the ONLY TWO NIGHTS Mulder, Scully, and William spent together as a family (*shakes fist at Chris Carter).</p>
<p>This is just basically fluff and family fluff and fluff.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It was obvious from the prompt that this was the only option for this story.</p>
<p>Also, I'm sorry, when my thumbs typed this, they decided the ending was going to be really sentimental.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Baby William's tiny arms were wiggling in that blissfully ignorant way that all babies knew. All was right with the world and nothing would change that. His little round fingers stretched out, grasping for his father's touch. Mulder cradled him closely against his chest and let his pinky finer be wrapped with William's delicate little digits. He marvelled at the tiny creature he was holding.</p>
<p>"Hello budd, you're very special, you know that? You have a mommy and a daddy that love you very much." He looked up at Scully who was sorting William's nightwear from the other side of the room. "Mommy is going to put you into some comfy PJs and then we can all have a nap. It's been a long day, especially for you and mommy, but you're a trooper."</p>
<p>William made a huffing sound as if to agree and Scully looked over her shoulder at them both. If at all possible, her heart swelled to twice its size when she saw the pair: father and son. Her eyes tangled with Mulder's gaze whilst he spoke.</p>
<p>"You get that from her, you know. If you end up half as strong and feisty and clever and big-hearted as that strange lady over there with the red hair, then you will do us proud."</p>
<p>Scully turned fully around to face them, wearing a content smile and shaking her head slightly at the one-way conversation Mulder was having with their son. "That strange lady needs to put him in his sleepsuit."</p>
<p>Mulder over exaggerated a frown, much to Scully's amusement. "Look, she's already trying to steal you from me. We can't win, budd, can we?"</p>
<p>"It's just for a minute, Mulder. I'm sure you can manage." She turned back around to lay William's sleepsuit on the changing table but peered back at him over her shoulder. "Or has fatherhood finally mellowed you?"</p>
<p>"It's no fun when she teases, Will."</p>
<p>"Come here," she said in a stern way that would be threatening if Mulder didn't know any better.</p>
<p>He met Scully halfway across the room and gently exchanged the tiny miracle. Scully's soft hushes spread a warmth from Mulder's heart that bled into his soul. He knew he was sporting the grin of a buffoon but he didn't care. The two most precious people in his life were here and home at last. Their faces were bathed in the warm glow of the bedside lamps and love. He leaned in to kiss Scully softly on the cheek, breathing in a piece of pure happiness. Fatherhood had not mellowed him: he would protect them at all costs, his son and his Scully. He would lay down his own life in the blink of an eye if it meant they could stay safe.</p>
<p>He left them to it, going to turn down their bed and find the surprise he had hiding in his box marked 'kitchen'.</p>
<p>Other than the odd pan, a couple of chipped plates, bowls and a smattering of cutlery, the box was empty: an ode to Mulder's culinary ability. There was nothing in there that Scully didn't already own, so he knew it would be safe for a stowaway. He was cautiously quiet taking his keys to the sellotape, prying the cardboard open with trepidation as he searched for the prize inside. He withdrew a blue, crocheted bunny by the ear. He scrutinised the marked colourings of age and the way its depleted stuffing made its head flop to the side as if questioning him in return.</p>
<p>"Been a long time, huh?" He wasn't sure if he was talking to himself or the bunny.</p>
<p>Scully was still dressing William when Mulder placed the bunny between the two pillows of the bed.</p>
<p>Despite Mulder's discretion, she saw him fumbling out of the corner of her eye. "What's that?"</p>
<p>"Oh, what? This? Nothing."</p>
<p>"Hmm," she murmured, skeptical as usual.</p>
<p>She carried William over to where Mulder was standing by the bed.  "Or rather, who is that, should I ask?"</p>
<p>"He's called Blue Bear."</p>
<p>She raised an eyebrow at him, pondering the education they were hoping to give their son. "How very original."</p>
<p>"Don't blame me. I wanted to call him Peter."</p>
<p>"It's not even a bear!" she laughed.</p>
<p>"Eh, well, that's little sisters for you."</p>
<p>"Oh my God." A frown of sorrow suddenly knit its way into her expression. "Was it Samantha's?"</p>
<p>"My Grandma made him for me for Christmas when I was about five. Samantha was only a baby, but she was very persuasive and quickly 'adopted' him–" he emphasised his point with air quotes– "and by that, I of course mean stole."</p>
<p>She picked the bunny up, looking inquisitively at its features. "How come I have never seen this before?"</p>
<p>"I stole him back for safekeeping after Samantha was abducted. I wanted to give him back to her when I found her, but..." He trailed off, not willing to commit with words to a reality he was forced to accept. "I ended up feeling guilty for taking him, but I didn't want to give him up either, so he's spent most of his life in one dusty box or another."</p>
<p>He smiled at Scully who was cuddling William and Blue Bear with a growing look of concern on her face. "Don't worry, I've washed him," he reassured her.</p>
<p>"Non-bio?"</p>
<p>"What do you take me for?" he laughed. "Do you think Will will like him?"</p>
<p>"William loves him, Mulder, I can tell." Her voice was barely above a whisper, her throat clogged with emotion and there was a prickling behind her eyes. She leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Thank you."</p>
<p>Scully lay William down in the bedside crib and donned her silk pyjamas and a yawn before climbing into bed herself. She sluggishly called after him.</p>
<p>"There's room for more, Mulder."</p>
<p>"There's just one more thing I have to get," he said before disappearing.</p>
<p>He came back dressed in the most ridiculous UFO pyjamas holding two extra pairs: one Scully sized and one William sized.</p>
<p>He shook his head. "I can't believe I forgot these. I should have made you dress Will up in them."</p>
<p>She couldn't hold back a hearty guffaw at the sight of him. "I've never seen you wear pyjamas in your life, Mulder!"</p>
<p>"Yeah, but these ones are cool because they have UFOs on and I got matching pairs." He held them up to his face, waving them as if they are the winning lottery numbers.</p>
<p>"You are the most ridiculous person I have ever met."</p>
<p>"But you wouldn't have me any other way," he smiled.</p>
<p>"I don't know. Perhaps if you came with a complimentary receipt..."</p>
<p>He mock-shouted: "Scully!", never losing his grin.</p>
<p>"I'm joking," she whispered back as he crawled into the other side of the bed.</p>
<p>She shuffled into him, finding comfort in the two lanky arms forming an equator around her midriff. This was her world. His nose nuzzled through her hair to find that precious space between her neck and her shoulder. His lips pressed to her skin like the clasp of hands in prayer.</p>
<p>"I like this."</p>
<p>She met his forehead with her own.</p>
<p>"Me too."</p>
<p>The warmth under the covers nestled them cosily and Scully thought that she could get used to this life that she had desperately wanted for the longest time. </p>
<p>After a few minutes of contented cuddling, Mulder broke the silence with a secret he had been holding back. "Do you know what the best part about all of this is?"</p>
<p>"What?" Her eyes were still closed, on the brink of falling into a deep sleep.</p>
<p>"William's UFOs glow in the dark."</p>
<p>She chuckled softly, stroking William's fingers, whilst he slept.</p>
<p>"At what age do you think they start understanding the importance of things?" His voice was low but showed no hints of weariness.</p>
<p>She cursed his insomnia. All the excitement had probably gone to his head. "Hmm?" she replied.</p>
<p>"I mean, when can I start teaching him things?"</p>
<p>She struggled to string her thoughts together. "I don't think it works like that... You start on day one, telling them everything that is important and... somewhere along the way... they start to pick it up..." She wanted the quiet and sleep just at the other side of unconsciousness, but curiosity got the better of her. "Why?" she asked.</p>
<p>"There's a lot I need to show him. I was gonna start with a marathon run of The Twilight Zone tomorrow, especially as we've already missed day one. And then, of course, there's things like mothmen and bigfoot he's yet to learn. And then there's years of the Knicks he's got to catch up on..."</p>
<p>Scully interrupted him before he could continue with a list that she was sure was as long as his arm. "William has his own life, you know, without you filling his head with abominable creatures and fantasies."</p>
<p>"But that's a yes to the Knicks?" If she could have seen him, she was sure there would be that twinkle of excitement in his eye.</p>
<p>She stuffed her head into the pillow, exasperated. "Night, Mulder."</p>
<p>He whispered softly, "It's not all monsters and make-believe though, Scully. It's a very important story. It's the story of us."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ah man, I hate it when even I know my writing skills are terrible. I kinda lost inspiration with how to write this and reconcile fluff and feelings (and the only feelings I can write are angst), so, please, someone give me some desperately needed pointers; it would be very much appreciated.</p>
<p>Also, for my coursework, I have the option of writing either a dramatic monologue, short story, or the opening for a teen novel (a genre of my choice), and I'm stuck as to what to write about (I have a limit of 750 words). Currently, I'm leaning towards dramatic monologue, but have no idea what the subject, characters, genre, anything really should be. Although, I did have the brief notion that a wife should come home to find her husband confronting her about an affair, except he doesn't know that the affair was with a woman. And then the wife has a dramatic monologue? Obviously heavy angst; I'm sticking to what I can do.</p>
<p>If anybody has any ideas or anything they would like to see please leave it in the comments and I'll see if I can mould it around Mulder and Scully, and maybe even post it here.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. 100 Words</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A short 123 words about when Scully confronts the finally room at the end of the hall, knowing that she is pregnant.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is not part of the original set of prompts I had, but when as part of your course you are told to write roughly 100 words about famous characters from history or fiction, how could I refuse?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Autumn dew left pinpricks of condensation on the window, trailing down in streaks of tears. The glass steamed from the corners, converging inwards. The wood of the window frame was speckled black in a plague of mould. The monochromatic world outside, that had saturated the barren room, was finally creeping into the woodwork. </p><p>The floorboards creeked, mournful, as she made her way to the end of the hall, through the doorway, into the derilict part of their lives. The ghost of a child's laughter caught in the draft. </p><p>The steam from the coffee in her hand thawed the frostbitten room and she, no longer barren, looked out of the window. </p><p>A glassy, tear-stained reflection saw her on that grey autumn morning. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Out Of Breath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Set a year or so before IWTB. It's summertime and Mulder and Scully roll around in some hay.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry it's been a while, life has been a bit hectic as of late.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is a warm summer's day, or at least Scully thinks as she lies back on the lounger, book in one hand, gin and tonic in the other. There is the sweet song of birds nearby fluttering through the air and the groans of Mulder coming from the other side of the porch. </p><p>"Scully are you not cold? How are you not cold?" </p><p>She puts A Thousand Splendid Suns down on the table next to her, finally admitting that she isn't going to get much reading done with Mulder constantly whining in her ear. He is an odd sight sat in the chair: sunglasses and a thick, woollen coat. He is rubbing his arms too. She chuckles at how soft he has gotten since settling down. "Mulder, it's just age. Your circulation's not what it used to be."</p><p>"Thanks, Scully. I will remember to call you when I want cheering up."</p><p>She tuts. "I'm not your pep coach, Mulder; I'm just here to tell you the truth."</p><p>"Nope not true, you always tell lies. Lies and lies and lies." His teeth chatter whilst he shakes off a shiver. "I'm still the same spring chicken you met some–" he pretends to do the maths on his fingers like he hasn't counted and cherished every day they have spent together– "six add seven is... thirteen years ago, Scully."</p><p>She snorts at his humour as goofy as ever. "Mulder, you wouldn't be able to chase after a bus if it had broken down!"</p><p>"What am I doing chasing after you all day then?" His eyebrows wiggle, restless; the energy of this little squabble coaxing some excitement into his systems. </p><p>Her head is tilted, perfectly poised to challenge him; that fiery Scully-spark in full flame. "Do you ever catch me?"</p><p>"Yes." </p><p>"No."</p><p>He knew she was going to say that. "Do too," he counters. </p><p>She plays an unexpected joker: "Want a bet?" </p><p>Before he has time to answer, Scully leaps off of her lounger and is down the steps, running bare-foot through fields. Mulder's competitive side springs into action. He races down the porch steps after her, feeling his heart rapidly pump blood through his body. All that extra blood heightens his senses: he notices the smell of summer, can almost taste it in his mouth. The potion of the meadow heated by the radiant sun is invigorating, pushing him forwards to harry the chase. He almost loses her in the tall grass, the occasional bob of red visible. Scully's quick, but her little legs are no match for his long stride. He soon catches up with her. </p><p>"Out of breath yet?" she asks, briefly flashing him a wicked smile. </p><p>"No," he pants. </p><p>She stops for him to catch some oxygen. "And I'm the one that tells lies?" She pushes him playfully, sending him toppling over, but it backfires; he has a hold of her wrist and brings her down on top of him. </p><p>"Mulder!" she gasps. </p><p>Her nose is painfully close to touching his. He is looking up into those glistening, blue eyes, her dangling hair framing both of their faces in a tangle of red. She lifts his sunglasses off of his face, one of the arms poking him in the eye as she does so. Mulder laughs at the clumsy nature of the situation, sending jolts of electricity through Scully in response. His hand travels from her wrist to her face, sweeping her hair behind her ear, letting in the light. Her breath hitches as his thumbs caress her cheeks. She can see desire fueling the fire behind his eyes but her finger is on his lips before he can make a move. </p><p>"We can't. Not out here."</p><p>"Why not?" he asks; question muffled by her finger. His hands trace the lines of her body down to her waist, tugging playfully at the hem of her t-shirt. "The only problem I can see is our clothes."</p><p>Before he can make another smart remark, she silences him with a hypocritical, crushing kiss. She goes in lips parted, begging him to dance with her. They meet, Scully's tongue tasting tangy like the gin and slightly bitter from the tonic, yet Mulder is the one feeling drunk. All he can see is the red of her hair and the blue of the sky colliding in a violent blur of colour. He feels each of her soft moans in his groin, torturing him. </p><p>She pulls his arms through the sleeves of his coat, leaving it like a blanket between them and the prickly grass. </p><p>"No, Scully," he complains again. "It's cold."</p><p>"You did say clothes were a problem." </p><p>Untangling their legs and moving her bare shins to take refuge on the coat, she straddles him. The precision of her placement and the pressure so pure sends Mulder's head spinning, gearing his imagination into overdrive. </p><p>"Scully..." he moans.</p><p>"If you wanted it this badly– "she squeezes her grip on him, approving of his bulge– "you just had to ask."</p><p>"You're drunk," he chuckles with realisation. </p><p>"Tipsy at best."</p><p>"You talk when you're drunk. How many gins have you had?" </p><p>"Enough," she muses, tasting his lips, soft and plump but slightly blue from cold. She makes the effort to warm them up, taking in his lower one, sucking and adding a little bite when he moans again. </p><p>His hands find the clasp of her bra from underneath her t-shirt, undoing it and removing both garments in another clumsy act. His heart almost freezes at the sight of her breasts tantalisingly close to his mouth. She always has this effect on him, despite the years they have spent together. His tongue moves, greeting a nipple with strong strokes, urgently sucking as her breath quickens. He rolls the other between thumb and finger and then switches sides, paying each the same caring attention. She gasps and moans, the heat of the summer sun baking her bare back whilst the warmth of Mulder's mouth caresses her breasts. She's not even trying to be quiet now. </p><p>"Mhmm, loud too." he hums through her sternum. "I must remember to get you drunk more often." </p><p>"That's very irresponsible of you." </p><p>"I know," he grins. </p><p>His hands brush over her ribs down her back, like walking past a railing, letting limp fingers collide with the order of her bones. His left hand traces the ouroboros he knows lives there, relighting the tiny shard of anguish still stuck in his heart. His hands rendezvous at the small of her back and dare to venture underneath the waist of her shorts.</p><p>"Fuck, Scully. Why are you not wearing panties?"</p><p>"You forgot to do the washing yesterday."</p><p>His right hand travels round to cup her from underneath, whilst he keeps the left on top, squeezing the flesh of her cheek. "Duly noted."</p><p>"Don't get any ideas," she admonishes. </p><p>"Not even this?" His fingers feel through wet warmth to grace her nerves, circling once, twice, another time. </p><p>"Okay, maybe that." Scully pushes into his hand determined to increase the friction. She huffs with frustration, "Fuck. Take them off already."</p><p>He complies obediently, secretly in love with her impatience. He teases her, slipping her shorts off slowly. She lets out an amusing sigh of relief when they get to her knees and she can kick them off. </p><p>Mulder's brain goes into overdrive with a naked Scully on top of him. If he wasn't rock hard before, he is now. His eyes rake down her body, he himself is frozen in reverie. His hands smooth down her sides, resting on her waist, just holding her. </p><p>"What?" she asks, a strand of hair falling from where he had tucked it behind her ear. </p><p>"You're beautiful."</p><p>"So you say." Her answer is accompanied by a suspicious tone. </p><p>"No, it's true. Every time I look at you I have an epiphany." </p><p>He brushes the rogue piece of hair behind her ear again, leaving his palm cupping her cheek. She leans into the touch and holds his gaze, smirking sweetly at his ridiculous romanticism. She captures his lips for a gentle kiss that quickly turns ardent. His hand moves from its place on her cheek, joining his other one in the depths of her soft, red hair, messing it up all over again. </p><p>Mulder rolls them so she is lying on his coat. He travels down her body, a clear destination in mind. He sets the scene, lifting both of her legs over his shoulders. </p><p>"Ready?" he jokes. </p><p>"As I'll ever be."</p><p>He begins at the inside of her thighs, taking time to taste where her arousal has spread to. He teases a few kisses over a pair of freckles before blowing cool air up and down her centre. She giggles and wriggles, eliciting a mirthful laugh of his own. He goes back to her freckles and continues the trail up until his lips are pressed against hers. He dips into her, his tongue anywhere and everywhere at once. He hones in on her clitoris, holding it between his lips and gently rolling it, to which she confesses her first whimper. Concentrating, he circles, swishes and flicks, plunges into her, making sure to curl upwards the best he can, and returns to circle, swish and flick. </p><p>"Fuck, Mulder, what is your tongue doing?" </p><p>It was meant to be rhetorical but he answers anyway. "Gla' 'u li'e i'," he murmurs into her. </p><p>"What?" </p><p>He looks up beaming widely. "Glad you like it."</p><p>"Shut up," she giggles. </p><p>He heads back down, a hand on her stomach steadying her bucking hips. The only way he knows she is coming is when she jerks wildly and clenches around his tongue. He wishes he could hear her sacred profanities, but her thighs are clamped so tightly around his ears, all he can hear is his own blood pumping and faint muffles. Mulder grapples at her legs, panting when she finally let's go. </p><p>"Jesus, Scully! I love you, but I also like my head." </p><p>She immediately moves her legs off of his shoulders with a look of horror. "God, I'm so sorry, I..." she apologies but he cuts her short. </p><p>"That was possibly the most romantic thing anybody has ever done for me," he chortles. </p><p>"Mulder, I almost suffocated you! How are you okay with that?" </p><p>"Because it was insanely hot," he says matter-of-factly</p><p>She buries her face in her hands, too embarrassed to look him in the eye. "Sorry, I didn't mean to."</p><p>Mulder crawls his way back up to her and prizes her hands away. </p><p>"Scully, stop apologising."</p><p>He kisses her and all is forgiven. </p><p>With one forearm planted at her side, Mulder's other hand fumbles at his trousers. The angle is awkward and one-handed he is not quite as skilful as he'd usually be. </p><p>Her laugh is a light tinkering one when she sees his eagerness. "Let me help with that." </p><p>Scully sits up on an elbow, motioning for him to lie on his back. He quickly does so and she straddles his hips with just as much enthusiasm. She removes his hands, placing them on his t-shirt. She rolls her hips down over his hard-on, grinding her clit over the bulge, biting her lip as her eyes flutter shut and she moans.</p><p>"Scully, how drunk are you?" </p><p>"Shh." </p><p>She swiftly undoes his button, the fabric damp underneath her touch. She hadn't realised she was so wet for him. Her fingers crawl further, unfastening the zipper. </p><p>He kicks off his trainers so she can take off his trousers and pants. She peels them away with a grin. She crawls back up to him, each step forward an agonising wait. She eyes his dick stood to attention, trailing her fingertips up from his knees to the hilt in slow circling motions. Mulder watches her with anticipation. She pauses, as if in contemplation, before continuing in kisses her quest up to his chest, his neck, his lips. </p><p>Her thumbs rest there, whilst Mulder complains, "since when do you play so naughty?" </p><p>"How long have you known me?" </p><p>She positions herself over him, hesitating, waiting to hear his response. </p><p>"Long enough to know you won't be able to resist temptation very long," he playfully quips. </p><p>She gives him a few quick strokes and takes him in, unable to deny her cravings. Her chest blooms with the extra breath of a gasp. She swells around him completely, feeling all of his inches. He clutches her thighs, awestruck with her beauty. Her pale, marble skin is supple and, as she starts to move, he has to knead her flesh in order to ground himself in reality.  Scully is already bobbing up and down and grinding in circles at a relatively hurried rate, flaunting her agility with grace. Mulder finds his hands cupping her bouncing breasts, holding the weight of them in admiration. Her hair gets caught in his fingers, so he sweeps it over her shoulders.</p><p>"I love your hair like this."</p><p>"Like what?" </p><p>"All mussed." He plays with the end of a wave of red, looking earnestly into her blue eyes. "You know I love that windswept look on you, Scully."</p><p>"Funny. The only time you like that look, there's been no wind."</p><p>"It's always a whirlwind with you."</p><p>She rolls her eyes and rolls over, taking Mulder with her, allowing him control. "Mulder, do you ever shut your mouth?" </p><p>He sets the tempo irresistibly slow, pulling out leisurely with every ounce of self-control he can muster. </p><p>"How can I kiss you with my mouth shut?" he teases, punctuating his question with a hard thrust home. </p><p>Gasping, Scully looks up at him. His lips are parted, so inviting. The taste of him lingers in her mouth, but she's hungry for more. "Shut up and kiss me then," she whispers desperately. </p><p>"So bossy."</p><p>He doesn't need to be told twice. He kisses her as slowly and as deeply as he thrusts.</p><p>The smell of meadow flowers, and hay, and her suffocate his senses. Her loud cries paint the sky with colourful language. Scully grasps at his back in desperation, only claiming bunches of his t-shirt in her fists. She clings to him, legs wrapping around his back. The crown of her head burrows into the hay, exposing her neck. He kisses it, tempered, savouring each mouthful. He moves towards her weak spot, feeling her quiver beneath the touch of his tongue. The pleasure of his kissing is delicious and primal. All of the nerves covering her body flare with warmth and she bucks her hips into him, heightening the sensations converging at her centre. She digs her heels into his back and her chest rises, arching into him, the grass scratching at her shoulder blades. </p><p>"Mulder, the grass– it's prickly."</p><p>He scoops her up under an arm and chivalrously twists them both to shield her from the grass. </p><p>"Thank you." </p><p>"My pleasure."</p><p>"Mmm, I'm sure it is." </p><p>Smirking with the power of her new position, she speeds up to satiate her thirst. It shouldn't surprise him, but it does. His nails gently bite the flesh on her hips, sending her nerves firing into a frenzy. She moans, biting her own lip, the added sensation amping her euphoria. </p><p>Her lips are his kryptonite, all peachy and swollen, and with the bottom one caught under her teeth, he crumbles. With his hand on the nape of her neck, he draws her down to him. He captures her in his kisses, trapping her as she pins him down with her body. </p><p>Scully breaks free of his kissing. She throws her head back with exhilaration, swearing to the heavens above, "God, Mulder."</p><p>A smile bursts out across his face, forever in love with how she calls his name. </p><p>"Ah, Fuck! Mulder!" she hisses, and then she is gone. He catches her from falling, his hands bracing her shoulders. </p><p>He peaks when she comes undone around him, her muscles clutching at him inside her, milking him for all his orgasm's worth. She gradually rocks slower, coming down from cloud-9 like the temperate rain after a thunderstorm. </p><p>With both their arms weak and their corporal bodies exhausted, Scully eventually falls onto Mulder's chest. She turns her head, ear pressed to his chest listening to the rhythm of his heart and breathing. The rise and fall of his heavy breathing is like a lull of a boat out at sea. She kisses the side of his neck, repositioning herself next to him. Resting her head in the nook of his shoulder, her chin digs into him with each syllable she speaks.</p><p>"Out of breath?" </p><p>A chuckle rumbles through him. "For you, anything."</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I promise Scully isn't always drinking alcohol, she has had like two glasses, tops. It's summer, she is allowed to enjoy some gin. Also I have just realised that either Mulder wasn't wearing socks with his trainers/sneakers or he was wearing them the entire time. Not sure which is more disturbing.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The File</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>William / Jackson Van de Kamp hacks into the FBI database (I assume he's very clever and can do that sort of thing at about 16/17) and inadvertently finds out the truth. Or some of it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>What's this? A second post in under a week?<br/>Okay, so this is a little different, written from Williams pov and is in the first person. I haven't mentioned the X-files being reopened for the reboot, but this would have taken place sometime before s11e05 Ghouli and after season 10.<br/>I don't intend to offend anyone with comparisons between Scully and other people who have put their children up for adoption, or anyone who has had to go through some sort of adoption process in real life. There are mentions to prostitutes and drug abuse, and again, no offence is meant. It's just William trying to figure out who his parents are.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hacking into the FBI database is just one of those things you do, isn't it? I don't know why I've done it. Call it instinct, but something was leading me to it. In particular, the department that dealt with unexplained cases. It's a bit, okay maybe a lot, of an unorthodox method. I thought, if I can find the answers to what the hell was happening with me anywhere, it would be there.</p><p>It's going to sound so fucking stupid and paranoid when I say it. Nobody believes me when I say I can make people see things– things that aren't there, things that are lies. It's just like putting on a mask and letting people fill in the gaps about what they think they see. Not even my parents believe the truth. They always say I can tell them anything, that they will listen to me and there is nothing to be ashamed of. I know they are trying to be good parents to me but they don't understand.</p><p>More and more recently, I've been wondering if my birth mother would understand. I know I shouldn't dwell on the fact that my biological parents put me up for adoption. My mom and dad tell me that the only thing they know about my birth mother is that she loved me but couldn't keep. I don't know if they are just trying to be nice about it.</p><p>It makes me feel so angry sometimes to feel so betrayed. Like I wasn't worth the effort, or they didn't love me enough. I know it's cruel of me to think of things that way but I see women on the street, some with kids and some without, and I wonder how many of their children have been put up for adoption. In some of the rougher parts of town, I'll pass some women working corners late at night and wonder about all the children they had to give up, even if they love them. And then there are some drug addicts, too off their heads to even recognise their children's existence, let alone love them, and I think of the children who were taken into care, fostered, or adopted.</p><p>There are all these possibilities, but none of them seem to sit right. I like to think it's more than false optimism that keeps me from seeing my biological parents like that.</p><p>I'll sometimes see faces I don't recognise in my dreams. I know everybody does but there's one woman with red hair that seems to be of significance. I like to think she's what my birth mother would look like: kind and warm-hearted and smart. And she's nearly always with a man that looks at her in a way I haven't seen either of my parents look at each other.</p><p>Imagine my surprise when I can finally put names to the faces in my dreams, just sat at my computer, both of their files in front of me on the FBI database. And they aren't criminal files either. They are the files of two prestigious field agents: Agents Dana Scully MD and Fox Mulder. I am frozen in some sort of déjà vu; like somehow I should know these two people without having ever met them in my life. Seeing their pictures attached to their files, I feel a strange warmth towards them.</p><p>It is almost too much, I almost shut my laptop down, but then I remember I only have one shot at this and I'm not going to screw it up by being emotionally sensitive and undoing the work I have done to get through the FBI's firewall. Which, might I add, was a lot.</p><p>There are threads of X-Files, one leading to the other, from Agent Mulder's sister's abduction to Agent Scully's own abduction and subsequent cancer and infertility. My heart drops when I read that. It was just wishful thinking to peg my hopes on two strangers, but I feel I know them and I was almost certain she could have been my birth mother. Why else would I see her in my dreams? See them both?</p><p>I learn of Agent Scully's eloquence in explaining, with scientific credit, what is unearthly and inconceivable, often morbid. Through her reports and writing, I feel like I am getting to know her, or specifically, her frustration at her partner's otherworldly ideas. It was subtle but it was there, especially in her earlier case reports.</p><p>There are decades worth of material to sift through, dating way back to the early part of the twentieth century. There isn't much information on those cases, as there weren't any agents investigating them. It just seemed to be the FBI's dumping ground for unexplainable phenomena. Until 1991 when Agent Mulder opened them, which leaves about a decade of thoroughly analysed reports until they were closed for good in 2002. I was just praying that these agents had experienced something along the lines of the likes of me.</p><p>I thought I had hit on something with a case in '97 about a man called Eddie Van Blundht, who could appear as other people. I have often done that to get out of all kinds of sticky situations. But he had a tail, which I don't, and couldn't make other stuff change appearance, only himself. So I am back at square one. All the while, the thought of Agent Scully is niggling at me.</p><p>The only way I can describe it would be to say it is an itch. A small one that you try to ignore but can't help scratch and then it becomes the only thing you can think about. It's uncomfortable and irritating, but important. I am inextricably drawn back to her file.</p><p>Special Agent Dana Katherine Scully, Medical Doctor. Worked at the Quantico FBI training academy, assigned to the X-Files in 1992, after which there were various states of closings and reopenings and different agents. She took maternity leave in 2001. I almost choked.</p><p>It feels like the air was being compressed out of my lungs, that my insides are being forced out. My heart is pounding in my ears and my eyes can't see anything. A blank page of white steals my sight. I wait, for what feels like hours, trying to slow my breathing, waiting for the real world to fade back in.</p><p>Maternity leave. For an infertile woman? It doesn't make any sense. Unless it was a girlfriend or wife having the child. But the man I always see her with, Agent Fox Mulder, the way they look at each other, surely it wasn't a wife? It is the date though: 2001. The date is the thing that knocked the wind out of me. 2001.</p><p>2001, the year I was born.</p><p>I was trying so hard not to jump to conclusions but the only thought that I was paying attention to was that it could be me.</p><p>I don't even know if she had had a miscarriage or if the baby survived. There could be a boy or girl the same age as me happily living with their mother and it isn't me.</p><p>I suddenly feel immense jealousy for this fiction I have created. I want so badly to know that it is me, to know who my birth mother is, to be closer to the answers about what is wrong with me. If that child is me, was it because of her work that I am this fucked up? Had the paranormal somehow infected her pregnancy? Did she know there was something wrong with me? Is that why she gave me up? Because I'm not perfect? Because I am dangerous?</p><p>Shit, I am just making stuff up. All I know was that she took maternity leave. In 2001. The year I was born. A complete coincidence.</p><p>There are hardly any cases after her maternity leave but a few of them point to a conspiracy involving her child, that somehow, this child she had was both the saviour and the harbinger of doom. I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it. The weight of responsibility placed on an infant. It's outlandish and biblical and nonsensical.</p><p>And familiar.</p><p>The child was abducted for the mythology some sick people had spun around him. Not by aliens but by people. He had been taken and left in a hole dug into the ground, sheets of flaming tarpaulin and charred bodies left to guardian the child. People had been sent to kill him, to save him, until William Scully was put up for anonymous adoption at barely a few months old.</p><p>The redheaded woman. 2001. Anonymous adoption.</p><p>I slam the laptop shut, shock getting the better of me. My firsts curl into balls and it takes every ounce of restraint to keep them from pounding through my desk. Air rips through my lungs, my breathing erratic and hysterical. I feel it in my throat at first, the need to cry and the urge to throw up all too overwhelming at once.</p><p>I hear her voice for the first time, a dull melody, out of tune but captivating and soothing. It's like I can hear her in the room with me.</p><p>
  <em>William was a bullfrog, </em>
</p><p>I see her face looking down upon me. She doesn't look like how I usually see her; she's younger, not yet aged by years of grief.</p><p>
  <em>Was a good friend of mine.</em>
</p><p>Her face is scrunched up in agonising melancholy. There are tears in her eyes and it makes me want to cry too.</p><p>
  <em>I never understood a single word he said,</em>
</p><p>I gasp and open my eyes. I didn't realise I had clamped them shut. Around my room, my books and ornaments are all hovering.</p><p>
  <em>But I helped him a-drink his wine. </em>
</p><p>I immediately rush over to the little snow globe on my nightstand, catching it just in time as everything thuds.</p><p>
  <em>And it must have been some mighty fine wine. </em>
</p><p>My name is not William Scully: it's Jackson Van de Kamp.</p><p>Isn't it?</p><p>
  <em>Joy to the world,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>All the boys and girls. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Joy to the fishes in the deep, blue sea,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Joy to you and me. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is the quickest thing for this I have ever written, considering I started it this afternoon. And now that it is off my mind, I hope I can get back to my English essay I was suppose to be doing...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. A Pink Tutu</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Set post season 11, Mulder and Scully have a toddler and said toddler wants Mulder to dress up as a fairy for her birthday.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'll be honest this has more to do with a frog than a pink tutu.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The little tyke was turning four now and had a birthday wishlist twice as long as she was tall. At the very top of said list was a fancy dress party, which Lily had thoughtfully picked out all the costumes for. </p><p>Mulder sat on the couch, rubbing his brow: the late evening and lack of sleep getting to him. "Did you tell her to write this?"</p><p>"What's that?" </p><p>"This birthday wish list thing." </p><p>Scully walked into the living room, wrapping her robe around her and retrying the knot tighter. The soft glow of the standing lamp made the silk of gown shimmer like a river under moonlight. Her hair, a shade of strawberry-blonde in twilight years, flowed over her shoulders, ending in little tousled kinks. A glance over his shoulder told him this. Mulder couldn't help being caught in rapture because, even in so simple a moment, she was a work of art, the beauty of which no Renaissance painter could ever hope to capture. </p><p>"Oh," she said in recognition. "I thought it would be a good idea to understand what she wants now that she is old enough. You know, a bit like Christmas lists."</p><p>She stopped behind the couch, resting her hands on his shoulders and her chin on his head, gazing over him as he had done on numerous occasions; their height difference always a great source of amusement- to him. Mulder sighed and put the paper down, rubbing the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses. </p><p>"It's... Very long... And detailed." </p><p>She hummed. "Well, we can't say she doesn't know her own mind."</p><p>He looked up at her, trying to discern Scully's perspective on the limitations of a three-year-old's imagination. However he couldn't really gauge her expression, instead met with the underside of her pretty nose. </p><p>"Are you seriously considering all of this? Aren't we spoiling her?" </p><p>Scully straightened up, considering his concern. She nodded slowly, answering, "As the strict parent in this partnership–" she ruffled his hair, pecked his cheek and then looked at him dead in the eye– "I am definitely saying we shouldn't get her everything."</p><p>He laughed. "Scully, if there is one thing you are not, it is a strict parent. I have seen the way you dote on her."</p><p>She feigned offence with a frown, pushing at his shoulder with disapproval. "You're not exactly strict either."</p><p>"That's because she's my baby girl." He patted the seat next to him for Scully to join. She walked around and slumped easily into the seat. </p><p>He discreetly inhaled the fresh smelling lavender bath oils she had just soaked in. She smelt like comfort and home and years of blissful familiarity. His hand automatically came to her head, fingers curling through her soft hair, the towel-dried tresses still slightly damp at the roots.</p><p>Picking up the piece of paper he had discarded, she eyed it with interest, eyebrows on guard as she snuggled against his chest. His arm casually wrapped around her, drawing her closer in. His fingers danced lightly across the smooth skin of the back of her hand, just as soft and comforting as her scent. </p><p>Scully looked over the paper, sighing tiredly. It was fairly long... and detailed, but she was pleased to see there was nothing too extortionate, besides perhaps a bounce house and a swimming pool. It all seemed so normal and happy, a world away from their haunted pasts, even the trouble of her pregnancy only four years ago. There was nothing extraordinary about Lily's list; every toddler wanted a toy tractor, a bracelet making kit and a ghillie suit for their birthday. </p><p>"I gather you said you would take her sasquatching." She nuzzled against his chest with a small chortle. No child of theirs was ever going to be truly normal. </p><p>"I might have mentioned it."</p><p>"Only, she's written 'dig fut biskize' and I assume that means big foot disguise."</p><p>"Oh, that's what that says." He readjusted his glasses and squinted to where it was haphazardly written at the bottom of the page. "At least it's one of the more plausible suggestions."</p><p>Confused, Scully asked, "really?"</p><p>"Scully, there is no way we can, and just to pick a few, have a swimming pool–"</p><p>"Aww, but she loves swimming," she interjected. "And anyway, I was thinking about getting a small paddling pool."</p><p>He gave her an eye of skepticism, continuing, "have lots of chocolate Easter eggs–" </p><p>"Maybe just some chocolate?" She was looking up earnestly at him even if she wasn't being entirely serious. </p><p>"It's not even Easter!" he exclaimed with exasperation. </p><p>"Well, it is stupid to have Easter eggs only at Easter if you ask me." She said it with a deliberate matter-of-fact tone. They both knew she was only winding him up, but Mulder gave into it anyway. </p><p>"Sc– uh! You're supposed to be on my side! How are we meant to get–" he jabbed his finger at the list in emphasis– "a pet frog?" </p><p>She chuckled, rolling her eyes.</p><p>"You were the one that told her that if she kisses enough, one of them will turn into a handsome, young prince." She looked up at him, eyes glistening so pure with the kind of truth that brought a smirk to her lips. </p><p>Scully remembered all too well the many nights Mulder had insisted Lily's bedtime stories were actually real historical events and her children's books were the documents to prove it. She had always thought that Lily was too tired, all wrapped up in her blankets and teddybears, to pay much attention, but she was now realising that when she kissed Lily's rosy cheek goodnight, visions of frog princesses and princes were hopping through her head. </p><p>Mulder pulled off his glasses. "Okay, well, this kid needs to watch Shrek already and learn some lessons."</p><p>He pitched the glasses towards the coffee table with a harrumph, smiling only slightly when they landed perfectly in the middle of a pile of old psychology books. </p><p>"You know, sometimes you remind me of Donkey: always running around with too much energy," she mused. </p><p>He sighed. It settled through him like the wind creaking the trees of the old wood. "I don't feel like that anymore."</p><p>Scully reached around to the other side of him, hand clutching the side of his ribs in a brief squeeze. "You might not go jumping on trains as often as you used to, but I don't think anything will be able to extinguish your need for..." </p><p>"The truth?" he smiled. </p><p>She let go of a heavy breath, his mantra an unpleasant reminder, but she agreed nonetheless. "The need to want to believe in the fantastic. The need to believe in something that will keep you searching for answers. You're a highly religious person in that sense."</p><p>He shook his head. "I don't have blind faith, Scully."</p><p>"But you have replaced belief in one higher power with another. Whereas I look to God for guidance, you look beyond the heavens for answers."</p><p>"And that makes me like Donkey?" He raised his eyes, an accompaniment to his incredulous tone.</p><p>She smiled candidly. "You're funny like Donkey. You make me laugh."</p><p>Mulder crooked a smile cautiously. "So... does that make you Shrek?" </p><p>"Mm. I'm going to ignore that you just compared me to an ogre." </p><p>"Scully, you just compared me to a literal ass. I don't think you have any space to talk."</p><p>She waved off his indignation. "Take that as you will; I did find you incredibly annoying to begin with. But I think I'm more like an onion."</p><p>"Deeply layered?" His fingers began stroking through the tresses of her hair again. </p><p>"Cut me and I'll make you cry," she dead-panned. </p><p>Mulder chuffed a laugh. "You're nothing like an onion: for starters, I don't have to cook you to eat you." He nudged her with his shoulder, grinning too widely for his own good. </p><p>"How very charming," she hid her not-so-subtle leer behind a grimace. </p><p>"Would you prefer it if I said I did have to cook you to eat you?" </p><p>Scully sat up, a deep frown of serious concern, almost comical, appeared on her face. She searched his eyes, her own flitting focus from one to the other, as if just beyond his optic nerves was the reassurance he wasn't a deranged man. At least not a deranged psychopath with cannibalistic tendencies. "Please don't do your unnerving impression of Hannibal Lecter."</p><p>"I have always thought of you a bit like Agent Clarice Starling." He held her gaze, beats of time only measured by their soft breathing and smiles. Mulder abruptly awoke from his reverie, playfully snatching the list off of Scully. "Anyway, according to our daughter, you make the perfect dinosaur." The hint of resentment that crept its way into his voice was not lost on Scully. </p><p>She laughed full-heartedly, shaking her head in disbelief. </p><p>"What?" </p><p>"You're annoyed because she wants you to dress up as a fairy. Look, Lily gets to be a Dalek, I am a dinosaur, and you are a fairy. She's even drawn pictures." Scully pointed to the three of them scrawled like stick figures in their respective costumes.</p><p>"Why do I have to be the fairy and not the dinosaur?" he all but whined. </p><p>"Oh my God," she laughed again. "You are jealous."</p><p>"I am not!" he objected. </p><p>"I think you would look quite fetching in a pink tutu." Scully teased. "I'm sure your masculinity could handle it."</p><p>Mulder scoffed. "Scully, I do not bend to society's cultural stereotypes of gendered roles." </p><p>"Are you sure that you're not the big, macho man? Always playing the hero? That you don't get even a little bit embarrassed when I have to rescue you?" </p><p>He looked at her with a wry smile. "Embarrassed is not what I feel when I see you barging in, a gun-toting, balls-blazing picture of bad-ass."</p><p>"Oh, so that's why you were always getting into trouble."</p><p>He shrugged modestly. </p><p>"Well then, handsome fairy," she firmly patted his chest. "I think it is time we found you a pink tutu."</p><p>She stood up and wandered back upstairs, turning halfway. Picturing the fairy look, she had to bite back a laugh, resulting in her lip puckering under her teeth. He was gazing after her again, head laid on the back of the couch, his eyes twinkling. She shook her head simperingly. "Don't be long to bed. Oh, and make sure to get her blue birthday balloons. She was quite adamant about that." </p><p> </p><p>..... </p><p> </p><p>The next morning, Scully sat in the living room, quietly enjoying a good book. The sun was shining through the windows and it looked like it was going to be a nice day. </p><p>She licked her finger and turned the page. </p><p>In the unusual calm of their house, the curling of the paper seemed unnecessarily loud. It was as if Scully was commenting on Mulder's lack of activity in the chair opposite her. </p><p>"Are you going to the store today?" </p><p>"Mmm." he half replied, engaged with losing that particular game of Tetris on his phone. </p><p>Lily tumbled into the room, mountaineering over furniture until she landed on the knee of her father. "Bounce!" She leaned forward, small hands impacting his chest with emphasis. </p><p>Mulder put his phone in his pocket. "Lily, you're getting a bit big for this," he complained. </p><p>She wasn't. She was still only small, even for her age; she was like her mother like that. She shook her head profusely in disagreement, her orange locks settling all frizzy in her face. She delicately wiped them away from her eyes, adopting her most persuasive voice. "Bounce pwease?"</p><p>However, Mulder was not as spry as he had been twenty years ago. He reluctantly acquiesced, holding onto her tiny hands and bouncing her up and down on his knee. It was worth it just to hear the room fill with her little giggle. </p><p>"Okay. Stop now," she demanded. </p><p>"What do you say, Lily?" Scully asked in an obvious questioning tone. She was pretending not to smirk, instead keenly interested in the same paragraph, reading it for the fifth time, not at all watching them out of the corner of her eye. </p><p>"Thank you." Lily threw her arms around him as best as she could, trapping him in a tight hug.</p><p>"You're good pipsqueak." </p><p>She scrunched her nose when Mulder pretended to steal it between his fingers. Grabbing after his fist, she fell forward but got up, determined to get her nose back. A wave of concentration passed over her face. She sat back, trying a new tactic. "Pwease?"</p><p>"Please what?" he encouraged. "Please pink elephants?" </p><p>"Pwease can I have my nose?" </p><p>He very kindly put her nose back where it belonged and Lily made good use of it, breathing a big sigh of relief. </p><p>Cautiously, Mulder asked, "Lily, wouldn't you prefer it if Mommy dressed as a fairy for your birthday?"</p><p>Scully eyed Mulder from over the top of her book. </p><p>Lily looked down, carefully folding the hem of her dress over and over as if the answer would call out to her from one of the creases. Eventually, she replied, "Mommy doesn't bewieve in faiwies. You can't be a faiwy if you don't bewieve in them... And there are boy faiwies too." </p><p>Scully chuckled. "She's got you there, Mulder."</p><p>Mulder gave her a laser-sharp stare in lieu of some unsavoury expletives. </p><p>Scully continued, marking her page and putting the book down beside her. "What do boy fairies wear, sweetie?" She leaned forward, hands clasped together over her knees, attentively listening for her answer. </p><p>"Pink!" Lily chimed, climbing down off the couch and running to the other chair. "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy! Can I have a bouncy house please?" </p><p>"Why don't you ask Daddy?" she shooed her back in his direction. </p><p>"Daddy–" </p><p>Mulder quickly stood up and made a brisk walk to the key bowl. "I think it's time I went out to the store to pick all the birthday stuff up, isn't that right Mommy?" A look of playful rivalry passed between them. "And if you want a bounce house–" He picked Lily up and spun her around before resting her on his hip. He bopped her nose– "you're just going to have to hassle her instead!" </p><p>He put her back on the ground and bent down to face her, not crouching for fear of his knees. Very sternly he said, "Lily, you promise to be a good girl while I'm gone and you promise that you will annoy Mommy as much as possible?" </p><p>"Mulder!" Scully chastised. </p><p>Undeterred by her mother's disapproval, the little girl nodded and swayed holding onto the hem of her flowery dress. She giggled when her father smiled and patted her on the head. </p><p>"Run along! Go annoy Mom!" he enthusiastically whispered like it was their little secret. </p><p>Lily ran over to Scully, jumping up and down by her leg, whilst Scully, for the most part, tried to ignore and not encourage her behaviour. She walked over to the door, arms crossed over her stomach, that ever-knowing eyebrow raised. </p><p>"You're in trouble, Mister. If there isn't a lovely bottle of red in the bags when you get back, I'll have to think of a way to reprimand you."</p><p>"Please, do tell me more," he hummed. </p><p>She laughed and kissed him sweetly. "Not in front of a three-year-old! Go on; go already."</p><p>Mulder hurried, or rather Scully pushed him out of the door. He jogged down the steps but paused before getting into the car. </p><p>"Lily?" he called. </p><p>A little face appeared at the side of Scully's leg. Mulder grinned seeing her and blew her a farewell kiss. </p><p>"Where's my kiss?" Scully asked slightly offended. </p><p>He smirked. "You can have yours later." </p><p>She stepped out onto the porch holding a hand up to shield her eyes from the morning sun. Lily followed pressing her face in between the wooden bars of the railing. Scully reminded him, "Don't forget blue balloons!" </p><p>To which Lily echoed: "Bwue bawoons!"</p><p>Mulder made a mini salute. "I won't. Scouts honour."</p><p>He got into the car and Scully bent down to Lily, both waving him off as he drove away. As soon as the car was out of sight, Scully turned to Lily, tenderly brushing the hair out of her face. "Lilyan, you are not to annoy me as your father said. Do you understand?" </p><p>Lily looked at her mom and nodded, though Scully had a feeling she would not be told so easily. Lily almost immediately began smiling a toothy grin, giggling when she stole Scully's nose and ran off into the house. </p><p> </p><p>..... </p><p> </p><p>It was midafternoon by the time Mulder got back. He looked thoroughly dishevelled and tired on his return– shopping can do that to a person. He had survived the apocalyptic world of zombie shoppers, navigating the stores as quickly as possible while feeling his own brain slowly turn to mush. He exhaled, relieved to finally be home. He could almost hear the couch and a cool glass of water beckoning him as he crossed the threshold. </p><p>"Hi honey, I'm home!" he jokingly called. </p><p>Scully appeared around the corner of the back door. "And what time do you call this?" </p><p>He sighed, lugging in the bags from his shopping haul. "I might not bend to society's stereotypes of gender but apparently all the stores in Virginia do. I looked everywhere for blue birthday balloons which didn't have 'boy' on them. Short of learning how to actually make balloons this was the best I could do." He held up an opened bag of balloons which he had scribbled over 'boy' in sharpie and replaced it with 'girl'. "It's gonna be a very important lesson on not giving a shit what other people tell you is right."</p><p>"Though perhaps in not as many rude words." she gave him a look of <em>I-agree-but-we-are-doing-this-the-sensible-way-aka-my-way</em>, that he was all too familiar with. </p><p>Mulder lumbered the bags onto the kitchen table, taking the chocolate cake out and finding a tin to properly hide it in. The balloons, wrapping paper and other things would be fine in an office draw somewhere. </p><p>"Speaking of which, I did a little shopping myself." Scully pulled out a Victoria Secrets bag from a cupboard and watched in delight as Mulder's face lit up. She laughed at his predictability, warning, "don't get your hopes up, it's not what you think." She opened the bag, revealing the smallest snippet of bright pink netting and explained, "I didn't have another bag to hide it from her." </p><p>He pulled the tutu out. "You order this last night?" </p><p>She nodded. "It came while you were out."</p><p>He held the tutu up to his waist and gave a twirl for Scully. She pulled out a pair of elasticated wings and a wand to match. They instantly caught Mulder's eye and he had to laugh. </p><p>He looked up to her. "Where's our little tyke?" </p><p>"She's playing in the garden."</p><p>"Still trynna catch frogs?" he smiled wickedly. </p><p>Scully rolled her eyes, taking back the costume and putting it away. She walked over to the open cupboard, stashed the bag inside and closed the door. She stopped, feeling his presence behind her, then one of his hands at the small of her back. She melted like putty and into his arms she turned. </p><p>Scully looked up at him. "She idolises you, you know." </p><p>"She'd do better listening to you more often. Her mommy is the smart one after all." </p><p>His hands held her at her hips. </p><p>"And her father isn't an Oxford graduate?" </p><p>Her arms wrapped around his neck and she tiptoed to kiss him, a small peck on the lips. </p><p>"That was longer ago than I care to admit; I'm senile now."</p><p>She looked into his dark, brooding eyes. "As long as you remember how to kiss."</p><p>"A promise is a promise."</p><p>Just as he was about to kiss her properly, the galumphing of footsteps on the decking outside made them stop. </p><p>"Mommy! Mommy!" came an excited and high pitched voice. </p><p>"Kids and the timing," he murmured. "It's uncanny." </p><p>Scully smiled against his lips before they both fell apart and watched as the toddler stumbled in. Her hands were outstretched, cupping something. </p><p>"Daddy!" She beamed and lifted her top hand off to reveal a brown, amphibious creature. "Fwog! Kiss him!" </p><p>Scully had to bite her cheek at how Mulder's jokes were backfiring. It was almost too funny to watch. He turned to her, a look of confusion meeting her forced sombre expression. "How did she even?" he asked. </p><p>"I have no idea," she confessed. Now that she thought about it, catching a frog and persuading Lily to tell Mulder to kiss it would have been excellent payback for all the annoyance she had had to put up with at his encouragement. Despite the thought, she gave him a look that told him to come clean with the whole spiel. </p><p>"Lily, I can't kiss him," he began. "It has to be a princess."</p><p>"Mulder!" Scully hissed. </p><p>"Oh..." Lily's face fell before sparking with a new idea. "Mommy?" </p><p>Mulder ruffled the girl's orange locks, pleased that Scully would now have to deal with the same conundrum she had failed to bail him out of. She was speechless for a few moments; a few moments that Mulder cherished in their rarity. She was about to do the proper thing and tell Lily to put the frog back, but Mulder saw an opportunity to tease some fun out a bit further. </p><p>He said in a very serious and believable tone, "she already kissed her frog."</p><p>They could both have laughed at the little frown growing on Lily's forehead, the cogs visibly turning.</p><p>"Mommy?" She beckoned Scully down to talk in her ear. Lily very surreptitiously held a hand to her mouth and whispered not so quietly, "Is Daddy a fwog?" </p><p>Mulder bent down to join them, much to the anger of the little girl. He couldn't help the smile from spreading across his face. "Sometimes I turn green at midnight."</p><p>Scully warningly slapped his knee, deciding this had gone far enough. </p><p>"Don't listen to him Lily, he's only trying to confuse you. Why don't you put Mr frog back in the garden?" </p><p>"Okay." She pouted but did as her mother asked.</p><p>They followed her through the kitchen to the back door, watching as she crouched in the long grass at the far end of the garden, contemplating giving up her pet frog. She kissed him goodbye and gently put him in the grass. </p><p>"Lilyan Katherine Mulder! You better not have kissed that frog!" Scully shouted out the back door. "Get here this instant!" </p><p>Lily turned around, a smug little grin on her face that quickly turned to a fit of giggles and rolling on the floor. </p><p>Mulder stormed out of the door, fully aware that he had caused the entire situation and now he was going to have to explain how it was unhygienic to kiss frogs and other things out of the garden. And that meant explaining the word unhygienic. </p><p>He took Lily's hand and bent down to face her. "Lilyan, I know you think this is funny, but you must not put things out of the garden near your mouth." </p><p>She stopped giggling, her face unscrunching and transforming to one of confusion. </p><p>Mulder continued, "Frogs don't really turn into princes, it's just a fairy tale. But frogs are dirty and unhygienic. If you put them near your mouth, you can get sick. So we need to clean your mouth. You understand?" </p><p>She nodded gravely. "You said, kiss a fwog and it turns into a pwince." </p><p>"I know I did. I'm sorry, Lilyan, it's not true. It's just a fairytale. Come one, we need to clean you up." Mulder stood up and held out a hand for her to follow. "Don't lick your lips." </p><p>Fortunately, she didn't seem to take the misinformation she had been fed to heart, instead, more interested in a new word. </p><p>"What is unhynic?" she asked, taking her father's hand in a tight grip. </p><p>"Unhygienic means there are tiny bugs called bacteria, so small you can't see them. And the bacteria can make you sick."</p><p>"If I can't see them, how are they there?" </p><p>Her brilliant curiosity had stumped him on that one, he didn't know how to explain it to himself let alone to a toddler with more worrying thoughts plaguing the moment. </p><p>"They just are Lily."</p><p>They made there way up the steps to the kitchen, where Scully had already found a bowl of water, a cloth and some soap. She gave Mulder a stern look when she took Lily and sat her up on the table, letting him know exactly how she felt about making their daughter kiss a frog. </p><p>Finally, curiosity got the better of Lily and she could wait no longer. In the middle of having her mouth wiped, she asked, "Mommy, if I can't see bactewer, how are they there?" </p><p>It was mostly muffled by the cloth, so Scully stopped, looking at her in the eye and brushing a curl of orange behind her ear. "What was that sweetie?" </p><p>"If I can't see bactewer, how are they there?" </p><p>She threw a questioning look at Mulder, who mouthed 'bacteria'. She seemed to understand because she adopted her educated, scholarly face that Mulder adored. </p><p>Scully sighed, pondering how best to explain microscopic organisms. "There are lots of things that exist but we can't see, Lily. You know that Mommy and Daddy love you but you can't see love; and you know when you're hungry but you can't see hunger."</p><p>Scully motioned for Lily to hold out her hands and she began to clean them. </p><p>"I feel hungwy. Do I feel bactewer?" </p><p>"Yes, bacteria can make you feel ill, and that's how you know they are real."</p><p>"And bactewer makes me sick. They are unhynic."</p><p>Smiling, Mulder placed a kiss to the crown of her head. "That's right, unhygienic."</p><p>Scully inspected Lily's hands and then lifted her off the table. "You are free to go, just don't kiss anything."</p><p>She squealed and ran into the garden again.</p><p>Scully started to clean up the bowl of soapy water and the cloth. She sighed, tipping the bowl down the sink as Mulder stepped behind her and wrapped his arms loosely around her waist. </p><p>She looked through the window to see Lily running around, her orange hair and green, flowery dress billowing in the breeze. Lily looked cute in green, which was a blessing. The colour complemented her hair and brought out her hazel eyes, but more importantly hid the numerous grass stains that she was prone to collecting. They had figured that camouflage colours were the best ones to dress Lily in very early on. </p><p>Scully smiled, leaning against the sink. "You know, I'm glad she's taken your name; it saves an awful lot of explaining about how weird she is when my brothers ask."</p><p>"You're not fooling anyone, Scully. I know you were just as mischievous at her age." He pressed a kiss to the side of her cheek, nuzzling her with his stubble. </p><p>"And I suppose you were the golden child?"</p><p>"Absolutely," he grinned. </p><p>Scully laughed through her nose. "I love you."</p><p>"I love you too." He relaxed his embrace turning to look at her side on. "I feel a 'but' coming."</p><p>"If you could please refrain from using our daughter as a psychological experiment, I would be grateful. Not everything we tell her needs to be a fairy tale just to see if she will believe us; there are plenty of real wonders in the universe that we can show her."</p><p>She smiled a little, plucking his dry fingers and weaving them with her own soapy ones. "Though it was pretty funny when you told her you were a frog." </p><p>"Yeah, it was," he laughed. </p><p>Mulder moved to pick up the shopping bags still left on the table. Thankfully Lily hadn't thought too much about them, or if she had, she was good enough not to sneak a peak. </p><p>"Just so you know, Scully, Big Foot is <em>not</em> a fairy tale." </p><p>She let him have that one. "Sure." </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I wanted to see Mulder in a pink tutu and I figured the only way that was going to happen was if a small child requested it of him. I didn't want to diverge from cannon, so I opted for post season 11 despite how problematic it is. All problematic problems aside (and there are many), I just wanted to see what kind of parents Mulder and Scully would be.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Who Are You?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Scully is pregnant and having strange cravings. What if they never needed a paternity test?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just a small drabble of an idea. I'm inclined to say this is season 8 but I literally wrote this five minutes ago, so it could be many things. I may have also had the idea before I fitted it to one of the prompts.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mulder walked into the kitchen, spying Scully hunched over something at the table. </p><p>"Scully? What are you doing? Are those my sunflower seeds?" </p><p>She guiltily turned, caught red-handed. With a mouthful of seeds she mumbled, "I was hungry."</p><p>"For sunflower seeds? You despise them." He shook his head and laughed. "Who are you and what have you done with Scully?" </p><p>She chewed slowly, gulping hard. "I think it was the baby. I was craving them."</p><p>"The baby wanted sunflower seeds?" Mulder's voice rose to a third tone of incredulity. </p><p>"Well, at least we know the little daemon is yours," she smiled and pushed the open bag into his hands. "Here, have them; I hate the taste of sunflower seeds."</p><p>He chuckled, grabbing a handful and popping one in his mouth. "That's what I thought." </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I might do a more angsty one, where Scully has cravings for sunflower seeds during Mulder's abduction.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Mesh</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mulder drags Scully out of town for a halloween special of ghost busting.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just some fluff and a lot of flirting.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Halloween: Mulder's favourite holiday. Once a year he could dress up in his ghillie suit and not have people turning their pompous noses up at him because of his eccentric habits. Of course, he was still spooky and unconventional, but he could hide behind the veil of seasonal festivities. For one day of the year, Fox Mulder was free to be himself: a privilege he made the most of. But this year he had something different than the usual sasquatching in mind.</p><p>He had other plans like Scully and ghost hunting. </p><p>He knew she was at the unofficial works do. He knew she would be initially be annoyed but he also knew that she would come anyway. And he was selfish enough to need her.</p><p>So, Mulder sat in his car, parked on the roadside, plucking up the courage to interrupt the party. He looked over to where the light from the streetlamp illuminated the bar favoured by the agents in D.C. It was of nothing notable from the outside, just another slightly less than reputable bar, probably packed with patrons at that late hour. Shucking a final sunflower seed, he threw the shell to the overflowing cupholder and abruptly got out.</p><p>The darkness had a cool edge to it despite the stillness of the night. He walked up to the door, shaking off the chill and his nerves. It half crossed his mind to gate-crash and make good of the booze, but he wouldn't miss the opportunity to ghostbust with Scully.</p><p>Through the doors, Mulder was met with the distinct aroma of alcohol and too many bodies overcrowding the space. He shouldered his way through vampires and zombies, nurses and witches, bumping into all kinds of creatures he would more commonly find in the filed away in the basement of the Hoover building. Trying to push through the crowd, he bumped head-on into someone carrying an assortment of brightly coloured cocktails.</p><p>"Well if it isn't Spooky Mulder," the agent sneered.</p><p>"Yeah," Mulder responded, not really paying him much attention.</p><p>"See any little, green men this time of year?" he laughed</p><p>"Yeah," he repeated again, more interested in a small group in the corner of the room, a familiar bob of red hair catching in the low light.</p><p>The agent took a good look at Mulder, up and down, the plastic Frankenstein mask falling from his face in the process. Mulder vaguely remembered him from his time at VCU.</p><p>"You didn't come dressed for the occasion, or are you spooky enough?"</p><p>"I didn't realised you had dressed up, Agent Goodmire." Mulder, casually dressed and looking decidedly unseasonal for a change, smiled coldly and patted his arm. "Or are you always this repulsive?"</p><p>He left to seek out the redhead laughing in the corner of the room. Looking up from her beer, Scully's eyes widened in delight from seeing him approach. "Mulder? I didn't think you were coming."</p><p>He noted her smoky eyes and wild, bouffant hair that would have been more at home in the previous decade. Rags of crimson and black material were sown to a low cut dress, matched by a pointy hat fixed to her hair. But it was her lips painted a bright blood-red that captured his unexpecting attention the most.</p><p>The others looked up from their conversations, among them Pendrell, who asked, "Agent Mulder, good to see you. You... want to join us?"</p><p>Mulder snapped from his reverie, (he hoped) unnoticeably, although a smile still lingered. "I would but I have some business to attend to."</p><p>"On Halloween?" Pendrell turned questioningly to Scully, who shrugged and pulled a face. Mulder resented the pink blush that coloured his cheeks and the smile that slowly pulled at the corners of his mouth. Pendrell looked away quickly in a shy fluster.</p><p>"Come on, Agent Pendrell," Mulder quipped. "You know my line of work."</p><p>"On Halloween?" Scully repeated just as incredulously with eyebrows raised to the roof.  Would she ever have just a few hours of her life uninterrupted by the quest for the truth?</p><p>"It'll be fun."</p><p>"What will?" she asked cautiously.</p><p>A grin religiously spread across his face. "A little seasonal ghost hunting."</p><p>She returned his grin with a smirk and excused herself without another word– much to the dismay of Pendrell. She took Mulder's hand as they weaved their way back through the bar, also taking him by surprise. However, he quickly shook his awe and told himself that she just didn't want to get lost.</p><p>When they were through the doors, they both took a deep breath of refreshing air.</p><p>Scully sighed and giggled, still holding on to his hand. "What does it say, when I'd rather ditch a party, where I could expand my social horizons, to spend time with you, ghost-busting no less?"</p><p>Even tipsy she still sounded intelligent.</p><p>"It says a lot about the company you think will expand your social horizons," he teased, thinking back to Pendrell and the other sorry excuses there had been to make conversation with– he hadn't recognised them.</p><p>Scully was quiet for a few seconds, the sound of their footsteps on the concrete the only comment.</p><p>"I like Pendrell; he's sweet," she mused quietly.</p><p>"Scully," he proceeded slowly. "How much have you had to drink?"</p><p>She slapped his arm and chided him. "Nothing I can't handle."</p><p>Scully shook her head and giggled again, laughing at some joke in her thoughts only she was privy to.</p><p>Mulder bit back a smirk, realising now that the rose tint to her cheeks wasn't from make-up. "Good. Don't want you swaying in those six-inch stiletto boots, which are looking hot by the way."</p><p>She gave him another one of her precious simpers. "I was aiming more for Wicked Witch... but I'll take hot. And anyway." She stopped by the car, punctuating her point with a curt pivot to face him. "You could at least take me home to change into something more appropriate."</p><p>"No time. We need to be there for midnight and it's already an hour to the witching hour itself."</p><p>Scully huffed and opened the passenger's side door.</p><p>The journey seemed long watching the night fly by, but in actuality, it was no more than fifty minutes before they reached a wooded park outside the city. Grandiose trees reached high, their cracked and spindled fingers jet black against an even darker sky.</p><p>Scully eyed Mulder cautiously as he pulled up on the side of the road.</p><p>"You not scared are you, Scully?" he joked.</p><p>"No," she started defensively. "Why on earth would you think that?"</p><p>"No reason." He killed the engine and they were left all alone in the hands of the night.</p><p>Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted its call.</p><p>The chill in the air had crispened to a biting breeze that came seeking for them as soon as they opened the car doors. It was sobering to the touch, shaking them from any idea that the weather would give them an easy time. Almost instantly, a thick mist swathed about their feet. Mulder half expected the sky to cloud over and strike them with lightning.</p><p>Scully gasped as she dipped her toes into the white swirls. "Oh my God, it's like a blanket."</p><p>Mulder made his way to her side, a hint of genuine worry laced through his question. "You sure you're okay, Scully?"</p><p>"Yeah, I'm fine." She brushed off his concern with a small smile. "I'm just not sure how I'm going to navigate the  woodland floor in these shoes if I can't even see it."</p><p>"Here take my arm." Scully gave him a puzzled look. "That way, if you trip, I can support you," he explained.</p><p>Scully rolled her eyes but linked arms with him anyway. The effects of the alcohol must have worn off already, but something was making her insides fuzzy.</p><p>"Please tell me you've brought torches."</p><p>"Way ahead of you, Scully." He fumbled about in his deep coat pocket, retrieving two flashlights. He passed one to her and held the other under his chin, trying to look scary, but absolutely failing for the massive grin on his face. Her bubble of laughter warmed the dark night.</p><p>"Come on then, Spooky, let's go bust us some ghosts that definitely aren't fables transcended to local legend."</p><p>"You make it sound so sexy when you say it like that, Miss Skeptic."</p><p>She squeezed his arm in reproach, yet stifled the tiniest smirk.</p><p>Deeper into the wood they traipsed, ever wary of the low hanging branches that brushed their faces and twigs snapped beneath their feet.</p><p>Scully gasped and froze, feeling something claw at her leg.</p><p>"Wait, Mulder, I'm snagged on something."</p><p>She frustratedly pulled at the barbed vines that had ensnared her and he bent down to help investigate.</p><p>"Shouldn't have worn these stupid mesh things," he muttered, tangling his own fingers in a knot. He thought that Scully hadn't heard his remark, but when he sensed her huff and shift her weight he knew he should have bit his tongue.</p><p>"I am being a witch on Halloween for a Halloween party, it's perfectly reasonable that I should wear fishnets," she said indignantly.</p><p>"Don't be so harsh on yourself, Scully." He glanced hesitantly upwards to gage whether it was worth biting his tongue this time. "You're far prettier than a witch."</p><p>She tried her best to ignore him. "Well, I was at least until you showed up," she muttered.</p><p>"Rescued more like." He grinned and returned to the bramble.</p><p>"I came willingly."</p><p>"Because you needed rescuing."</p><p>She sighed. "We both know you only called me out to rescue your sorry ass when you inevitably get into trouble."</p><p>Mulder remained focused, speaking in a softer tone, almost to himself. "You know I'd find any excuse for you to rescue my fine ass." He unhooked her tights and smiled up at her again. "There, you're welcome."</p><p>"I think I said 'sorry ass'," Scully corrected.</p><p>Mulder stood and brushed his hands off, shrugging nonchalantly as if his heart rate wasn't beginning to flutter. "Think what you like; we both know it's the same."</p><p>This time she couldn't help the twitch at the corner of her mouth tugging upward to a smirk. "If you just wanted my company to argue with, we could have easily stayed at yours and argued over what film to watch."</p><p>"Perhaps when we get back." He offered his arm again, impersonating the doting, gentlemen with an air of smugness. "Night of the Living Dead?"</p><p>"I was thinking more along the lines of The Exorcist," she hummed.</p><p>"Ugh..." He threw his head back to the canopy of trees in dispair. "We've seen that like a thousand times, Scully."</p><p>"That's because it's a good film."</p><p>She wasn't kidding when she said it was one of her favourites – Mulder must have seen it enough for a lifetime and not once had she conceded to watch Plan 9 From Outer Space with him.</p><p>"How about The Shining?"</p><p>"The Godfather."</p><p>"Deal. We'll call it a date." He stopped, spat on his hand, and stuck it out to seal their agreement, to which Scully gave him a look of perplexion.</p><p>"You can be quite disgusting sometimes, you know that?"</p><p>He waved he hand out again, adamant to strike a bargain. "Shake on it?"</p><p>"Not in a million years," she laughed.</p><p>He mournfully wiped his unshaken hand on his trousers. "Do I at the very least have your word?"</p><p>"Promise." She absentmindedly fingered the delicate, gold cross, decorating her décolletage. Mulder was touched by the surprising gesture. "Cross my heart and hope to die."</p><p>He took her hand gently from her pendant and she blinked to see him smiling kindly at her. "Don't say that; the spirits might hear you."</p><p>She tilted her head and returned his smile. "I'd best keep my promise then."</p><p>When they made it to the clearing, Mulder hushed Scully, the absence of their footsteps making the silence deafening. There was no sound of nightlife to be found, save for the brief hiss of the wind. All lay eerily calm.</p><p>The circular arrangement of stones protruding from the ground looked expectantly towards them as if possessing a conscious quality. They looked grave like they could be headstones, but the calloused edges told of an older, arcane arrangement like the henges of the neolithic era. It was quite easy to believe a magic possessed the place. Even Scully had to agree upon the strong impression of something unexplainable. It sent a shiver down her spine.</p><p>Scully whispered, apprehensive of shattering the silence, "so, what do we do now? Sit and wait?"</p><p>"Pretty much. Behind those bushes?" He pointed over to the other side of the clearing that was bordered by bushes of holly.</p><p>Shaking her head, Scully had to bite her lip. "You do plan the most interesting dates, Mulder."</p><p>Mulder tried not to stiffen at the implications her statement proposed, but his mind was operating at full capacity, thoughts pinging off the insides of his skull, begging more questions. He kept moving steadily, with Scully latched onto his arm, across the clearing. </p><p>He hesitated. "Who said this was a date?"</p><p>"Why else would you crash a party to extract me from it?" She said it as if it was completely obvious and self-explanatory. Casually, she brushed her fingers along one of the stones as she passed. It was as rough as she expected, sharpened by the cold pinch of due settled over the rock. </p><p>"Because we're friends." He sounded strange as if he was forcing a truth. If she didn't know otherwise, she would have said he was hiding something. But he had nothing to hide. They ey were friends. </p><p>They crouched behind the holly and waited. Mulder noticed Scully shivering. Without a word spoken, he took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders. She looked at him, smiling her thanks, that fuzzy feeling returning to her veins. Wrapping his coat tighter around herself, she revelled in its warmth and secretly its smell.</p><p>The minutes dragged as they stared ahead to the clearing and frequently stealing glances of each other. Although their flashlights were turned off, they could make out the outline of each's profile in the dusky starlight.</p><p>After what felt like an eternity, Scully, growing impatient, sighed through chattering teeth. "Mulder, there's nothing here, is there?"</p><p>He grabbed her arm, stilling her, anchoring her to him and his ridiculous crusade. "No, no, just wait. There's gotta be " He paused, listening intently. "Just before the third solstice the barriers between planes are at their weakest. Locals have reported sightings of spirits roaming this particular area on All Hallows Eve. Its a site that dates back to the settlement of the first colonisers and is suspected was used by witches for their rituals and subsequently where they were trialed and hanged. All that couldn't have been for nothing, Scully... There has to be something."</p><p>She pondered all the emotion a place so steeped in tragic history could retain, and yet no spirits. "It's a nice story, but I don't see anything."</p><p>Mulder sighed in defeat and stood up, legs slightly dead from crouching for so long. He held out his hand in apology to help her up too.</p><p>"I'm sorry, Scully, let's get outta here."</p><p>She grasped for his hand and wobbled to her feet. "Thanks, Mulder, but I kinda enjoyed it too."</p><p>He shook his head simperingly. "You don't have to pretend for me."</p><p>She smiled. "Okay. The company was good."</p><p>"That bad, huh?"</p><p>She chuckled, leading him, back they way they came. "Come on, let's go." </p><p>Back at her place, she had a chance to change into something comfy: Flannel pajamas and fluffy slippers. The television in the corner of the room illuminated their faces in pale blues like the moon hidden behind drawn blinds. Curled up on the couch, they shared a bowl of very unamerican, unbuttered popcorn and little jokes and comments. Although Scully wouldn't readily admit it, she found comfort in leaning against him, cheek flush with the sleeve of his jumper. It was freeing to trust someone with the weight of your weary head. It was subtle, the way she scooted closer to him, the final bump between her temple and his arm a seal to conclude that the journey had even happened at all. Mulder kept his gaze focused mostly on The Godfather, fearing a glimpse would shatter the moment. Eventually, onced he heard her breathing even out into heavy puffs, he risked their reality. </p><p>"Happy Halloween, Scully," he whispered to the crown of her head.</p><p>Before the credits scrolled upwards on the screen, Mulder yawned, fighting against his eyelids to keep them open. One more blink and he was softly snoring nextto her.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The start of this month marked a year since I first started watching the X-files. Safe to say, I had no idea what I was getting into.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>